We Were Merely Freshmen
by rockyyy
Summary: Complete. Arnold and his friends' first year at Hillwood High. Title inspired by The Verve Pipe.
1. Campfire Promise

Summary: I'm planning to make a series of all four years of Arnold and his friends' years in high school. At this point I'm halfway through with freshman year, but the feedback will determine whether or not I stop it there. So why ruin the fun with hints? Read! :D I'm new at this, so be kind.

Disclaimer: These are **Craig Bartlett's** toys--I am merely playing with them.

**Freshman Year**, Part 1.

**Chapter One**: Campfire Promise

"Man! Seven PM, August thirty-first, Two Thousand Two. In twelve hours, we'll officially be high schoolers."

Fourteen-year-old Gerald Johanssen clicked his tongue and plunged his twig into the campfire, determined to burn the marshmallows stuck to the end of it. Arnold, also fourteen, sat on his right side, gazing heavenward. He gave a long, drawn-out sigh and shifted his weight. He wasn't so sure about his readiness for the new chapter in his life. Looking about himself, none of his friends looked very ready for it, either. After Gerald voiced the obvious, the group exchanged nervous glances and fiddled with their food, all staring either into the darkening summer sky or the crackling fire.

"High schoolers," Harold Berman said, taking a rather large bite of his hot dog. The boy's consistent hunger hadn't ebbed since the elementary days, but his figure had certainly altered after a year or two of playing on the football team. Instead of simple fat, muscles began to ripple beneath his clothes.

"I feel so _old_," Rhonda Lloyd muttered, twisting her mouth in disgust and staring at a random spot on the ground. While the rest of the group sat near the fire on logs or on the ground, Rhonda lounged in an expensive beach chair and was careful not to allow her Jimmy Choo flip-flops to touch the dirt.

"We're only fourteen!" Sid reassured her, adjusting his green baseball cap. That hat and his leather jacket were the only two things that really remained the same about his style--the white beetle boots were disposed of in the seventh grade after a pretty new girl made a snide remark about them in the lunch line.

"Fourteen," started Sheena, whose sandy brown locks now tumbled past her shoulders, "is only two years away from sixteen, and sixteen is only two years away from eighteen, the age you technically turn into an adult--"

"So we're four years from being adults," Eugene finished, and added, "which means we've got a while before we have to worry about being 'old' Rhonda." He ended his sentence with a bit of an attitude, which wasn't anything new nowadays. The redhead's cheery nature had dimmed during middle school, but he was still getting into accidents. He had retained his optimism; he just wasn't as enthusiastic.

"It's only four years, though," Nadine started, undoing and re-doing her long, blond plaits of hair. "I mean, look how fast middle school went by. High school's gonna be the same, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about, middle school took for_ever_!" Sid groaned, waving his bamboo stick high over his head. The marshmallow at the end of it was flaming.

"I regret to say this, guys, but nothing can be done to slow time," Phoebe stated in a small voice, looking helplessly about herself and ducking whenever Sid's bamboo stick came within two feet of her. "It's going to carry us forward whether or not we want it to."

A grunt came from the left side of Phoebe. Helga was sitting on the ground with her back propped against the log, glaring at the campfire as if it had said something vulgar to her. The blonde had not taken kindly to hearing about the movements of time as of late. In fact, whenever anyone mentioned anything about "moving forward," she became uncharacteristically quiet.

As if he read her mind, Arnold then said, "Going forward can be scary..."

"No kidding, Football Head," Helga groaned, not tearing her gaze away from the flames. It was the first sentence she'd spoken in an hour or two. Biting her lip, she began to fiddle absent-mindedly with the buttons on her striped blouse.

"But it's gonna be all right," he said, trying his best to sound cheerful. "Because no matter what, we've got each other, and however far forward we go, we go together, right?"

At this, Helga looked up, making eye contact with Arnold for the first time in hours. His words rang in her ears--"_however far forward we go, we go together_." She smiled, something she didn't do quite often, and it caused a chain reaction. With a giggle, Phoebe rested a hand on Helga's shoulder, and Arnold and Gerald wiggled their thumbs together in a handshake just as they had all their lives. This sudden reassurance infected the whole group, and soon the lot of them began laughing heartily and loudly. Gerald stood up on one of the logs and held up his half-full bottle of Yahoo! soda.

"A toast," he began, his bellowing voice quieting the noise. All eyes were on Gerald as he continued, "to our circle of friends. May we stick together throughout this new journey as we have in the past. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" the other young teens echoed, and after another roar of laughter, they chatted anxiously amongst themselves about the great adventure that was to behold in the morning.

--

Author Rant: This is definitely the shortest chapter, but I liked the idea of one last campfire before a new life begins. It gets better, I promise.


	2. Elena Hawkins

**Beforehand...**I was originally going to wait until I got reviews to post new chapters, but I'm a very impatient woman.

Again, **Disclaimer**: Bartlett's toys--I'm merely playing with them.

**Chapter 2**: There's Something About Elena

_"Hey Arnold, hey Arnold, hey Arnold, hey--" _

With a groan, Arnold hit his alarm clock and rolled over beneath his sheets.

_Ugh, here we go_, he thought to himself as he stretched on his mattress. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Arnold made his way to the closet and picked out a loose pair of jeans and a red shirt to wear for the day. After combing through his yellow hair and placing his little hat delicately on his head, he practically flew downstairs in sudden excitement for the first day of ninth grade.

"Morning, Kimba!" Arnold's grandmother Gertie greeted him brightly, tossing a plate of pancakes at his favorite spot on the table. "Eat up quickly, Arnold, don't be late for your first day."

"I won't be, Grandma," he reassured her, quickly taking a bite of his breakfast. "Where's Grandpa?"

"Oh he'll be in the bathroom for a while," she said quietly, flipping another flapjack at the stove. "I told him not to eat that cobbler last night..."

Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes, but jumped at the knock at the door.

"Now why would go to someone's house this early in the morning? Nothing makes sense in this world anymore--" Grandma muttered as she went to answer the door, but Arnold got there first.

"Need a ride?" Gerald said casually, before Arnold could speak. His lanky frame rested against the ledge of the stoop.

"Oh, yeah, I'll be out in a second," Arnold told him quickly. The blonde boy slipped into his white sneakers and followed Gerald outside the door, shouting goodbyes to his grandparents and the boarders.

"Man, I can_not_ wait to get this started," Gerald said happily as he and his friend got settled into Mrs. Johanssen's car.

"You boys ready?" she asked from the front seat, adjusting her mirror. The boys nodded and began to wonder aloud what was in store for them at Hillwood High School.

"What kind of catastrophe do you think's gonna happen?" Gerald asked casually.

"You're expecting them?" Arnold asked, not very surprised.

"Come on, Arnold, think of elementary and middle school! It's always our class that gets into some kinda trouble. And we're in high school now, so it's _gotta_ be crazy!"

Arnold gazed out the car window and thought about it. Gerald was right; in their middle school years, it was their class that always experienced extreme drama. Eugene's several near-fatal accidents, Rhonda's secret house parties, Curly's fiasco in the cafeteria in seventh grade--but nothing seemed to top the situation with FTI back in fourth...

_Wait, FTI?…Sure, that was our biggest catastrophe, but it happened years and years ago...why am I thinking about _that_ of all things?…_Arnold wondered to himself, but Gerald snapped him back to reality.

"Hey Arnold, we're here!" Gerald grinned excitedly as he dragged his friend out of the car. The two friends stood together in front of the building that they'd have to wander through for the next four years, Hillwood High School, home to over two thousand students and all of their drama. With three floors, an elevator, seven different hallways, and God knows how many flights of stairs, Arnold thought it had a very businesslike, professional feel to it, until he saw students horsing around in the windows. A zoo came to his mind after watching several students in a window on the second floor attempt to toss a smaller boy out of it. It only took Arnold five seconds to realize that this journey certainly wasn't going to be a picnic.

"Good morning Gerald, Arnold!" a familiar sweet voice called to the boys. A relatively short, pretty Japanese girl was scurrying towards them; her braces enhancing her already bright smile. Behind her trotted a tall, slender blonde, sporting a black scoop-neck shirt and form-fitting jeans.

"Hey Phoebe," Gerald said slyly, winking at the bespectacled girl. "Hey Helga," he nodded to the blonde, who nodded back, smirking. Helga had grown to be friendlier towards the boys in their group of friends over the years, but only slightly.

"We should go inside, yes?" Phoebe suggested, smoothing out her black pencil skirt.

"I thought the others wanted us to wait for them," Arnold said, scoping the front of the school for kids they knew.

"Anyone who wants to be on time for homeroom probably went in there already," Helga bluntly stated, walking towards the front doors. The other three began to follow.

"They want freshmen to meet in the cafeteria," Sid appeared behind them, looking extremely excited. "Everyone else is already in there, so let's go!" The dark-haired boy dragged them down the path to the front doors and swung them open with such enthusiasm that they hit several students behind them.

"Which way to the cafeteria?" Arnold asked aloud. A teacher apparently overheard, because soon the five friends were being accompanied by a corpulent man in a blue shirt and striped necktie who led them down several turns to a rather gigantic room.

"Just sit tight at any table, they'll be talking to you soon enough," the man told them in a husky voice, and hurried off back to the main entrance, probably to help other newcomers.

"This place is HUGE!" Sid exploded, standing on his seat at one of the tables. "Sid, don't stand on that, get down--" Arnold warned, hoping that no one of authority spotted him, but the lanky boy wasn't paying him any mind.

"There's so many kids in here!" Sid said excitedly, eyeing a group of laughing girls that conversed in a tight circle by a pillar in the center of the room. Arnold's childhood crush, Lila Sawyer, was among them, sporting a green flannel blouse and denim cutoffs. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a green ribbon and her eyes were heavily done up with mascara and eyeliner. While she seemed to try very hard to look older than she really was, it didn't take away from her girlish charm and beauty. Arnold tried with difficulty to look anywhere but at her, but he found himself averting his eyes to her group every couple of minutes.

"Approximately five hundred and twenty three students are in our graduating class," Phoebe stated brightly, her voice snapping Arnold back into focus. "I wonder what they wish to speak to all of us about? I'd very much like to just go to my homeroom and--"

"They're gonna lecture us about rules and crap and then give us a lame tour of the whole building, and then we'll go to our homerooms to get our schedules and go to all our classes for twenty minutes and then go home." Gerald and Arnold looked quizzically at Helga and her random burst of information. When she noticed their faces, she shrugged and said, "I asked Olga about it over the summer."

"You actually had a conversation with your sister?" Gerald asked, appalled.

"One of very few," Helga muttered, staring ahead of herself. "I think they're starting, look--"

A very lanky, bleach-blonde woman in her thirties stood on a platform at the far end of the cafeteria. She wore a vanilla cream-colored suit and a smile so fake and cheesy that it looked like it had been taped to her face. Even from far away, one could easily tell that she'd spent several hours in a tanning bed. The same burly man that ushered Arnold and his friends to the cafeteria was standing next to her. He handed her a microphone.

"Can you all hear me? Hey! Hey kids! Hey everybody!"

Several shouts and hollers erupted from the crowd of ninth graders.

"Excellent!" the lady laughed into the microphone. "All right, hi guys, I'm Miss Borders, and I'm your principal here at Hillwood High!"

"She looks _way_ too happy," Gerald commented, elbowing Helga, whom he knew would agree with him whole-heartedly.

Fulfilling his expectations, the blonde snorted. "If she keeps using that snooty butter-coated tone of voice, me and her are gonna have problems."

"You should probably get to know her Helga," Gerald chuckled. "You might be spending a lotta time in her office..."

"Don't be silly, Gerald," Phoebe squeaked, "Helga's a good girl--sometimes…"

"I just don't ever get caught," Helga said with a smirk.

Miss Borders continued to talk about rules and regulations and the unique scheduling for freshman, but Arnold and his circle barely paid attention to everything that was being said. Actually, they whispered to each other about their predictions for the year up until a tall, slender man took the microphone and spoke to the students in a deep, booming voice.

"All right, your attention please," he started. This guy didn't looked pleased at all with having to talk to five hundred ninth graders. "To make this easy on the teachers, all of you will have homeroom with the same people you had it with last year"--a loud chorus of grunts and groan filled the space between the walls--"so line up at the tables you're at now. The ninth-grade teachers will take your names and hand you your schedules..."

After the newcomers all flooded back and forth between tables to retrieve their schedules, they split up in several different groups to make their way towards their homerooms. Arnold and Gerald had lost the girls somewhere along the G100 Hallway (there were three different floors and all of the seven hallways were named alphabetically), but by the time they reached Room A113, they found them again.

"Well, it looks like the gang's all together again," Stinky mused, smiling as Arnold and Gerald took seats by him and Sid. Helga entered the room with Phoebe, and the two of them were followed by Rhonda, Lila, Nadine, and Harold. Eugene and Sheena didn't get in through the door until the bell rang.

"Boy howdy, we're always stuck together, aren't we?" Sid joked.

"Yeah, until next year when they sort us by last name," Helga said scornfully, sinking down into her chair and playing with a loose thread from her shirt.

"How d'ya know they're gonna do that?" Stinky asked her.

"Weren't you listening to Miss Borders?" Phoebe chimed in. "She said that from sophomore year onward we'll be assigned homerooms according to our last names. They put us together this year just so we could have some familiarity."

"We still have the chance of being in classes together next year, though," Arnold told Stinky optimistically.

"We haven't even started this year yet and you're already yapping about the next one? Criminey!" Helga snapped at them, now sitting upright in her seat.

"Garsh, Helga, you don't have to be so dang uptight--"

"I am _not_ uptight, Stinky, I just wanna get this day over with."

"What do you have first period, Helga?" Arnold calmly asked, changing the subject in her favor.

The scowl didn't vanish from her face, but her voice became considerably quieter."Theater Arts."

Arnold found himself smiling more widely than he wanted to, but he told her, "So do I, Helga! Room G304?"

"Uh--um--" she began to stammer when the boy met her eyes, but she regained composure and finished, "yeah, that's what it says on the schedule, Football Head."

"You don't mind me walking there with you, do you?" he asked, still smiling invitingly. Helga felt the color quickly rising in her cheeks; she envisioned herself walking with Arnold to first period (and every other class of the day), holding hands down every hallway and laughing and talking. Quickly, she shook her head and stammered, "No--I mean, yeah--I--sure, if you want to, Arnoldo."

Homeroom kept the kids busy for twenty minutes, and then an announcement came over the intercom, telling all freshman to report to their first period classes. All classes would be shortened to give the kids a half day, and with great rejoicing, they emerged from their rooms to make their way to their destinations. Arnold stood by the door to wait for Helga, who scowled at the sight of the mob in the hall.

"We might wanna hurry up," Arnold suggested, and without warning, took her arm and guided her towards a staircase. He was ahead of her, thankfully, so he was unable to see the redness in her cheeks.

"It's the third floor, Arnoldo," Helga said bitterly, looking about herself in a mild panic. There were so many people surrounding her on all sides, all chattering and making noise, and she failed in her attempt to sound unaffected by it.

"We just have to make a left over down there at H and it'll bring us to G," Arnold said soothingly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. Her heart skipped. "Once we get there we'll take the staircase up two floors. It _is_ the third floor, right?" he asked her, just to make sure.

Trying desperately to save face, Helga grunted, "Yes, Arnold, I already told you it was the third."

The two of them swerved through several crowds before they reached the G hallway, which seemed to be rather vacant. Arnold guessed that almost everyone was in their classes, but a teacher nearby told them that the freshman had most of their classes on the third floor. They scampered up the G staircase, both breathing heavily, and when they reached the top, Arnold stopped Helga.

"Before we make a wrong turn--it's G304, right?"

Helga wanted so badly to sound frustrated with him, but she allowed herself to softly tell him, "Yes, it should be the room over there," without an attitude.

The blonde teens hurried toward the room, not slowing down even though the teacher stood outside the open doorway. She was a younger lady, probably not much older than the principal, only she was very pale and had midnight black hair. Her eyes were heavily lidded but a very bright blue, and her smile was gentle and youthful.

Upon entering the room first, Helga scanned the room and took in the fact that no one she knew was in there, so she led Arnold towards two empty seats by the window. Hardly anyone paid attention to them, which Helga was thankful for--all of the kids in the class were making idle chit-chat amongst themselves.

"It's a really nice room," Arnold breathed as he got settled in his seat. His green eyes wandered from wall to wall, taking note of the various movie posters and framed photographs. One photo in particular caught his eye, hanging on a wall right over the teacher's desk--a pale, slender woman dressed in red was being lifted into the air by a black-haired man in a grey suit.

The lady that had been standing in the doorway suddenly entered the room; the door slammed behind her. The noise made her jump along the way to her desk, but after the small shock she seemed to glide the rest of the way. The class fell relatively silent; all that could be heard were the whispers of a group of boys in the back.

"Something about her is really creepy--but exciting," Arnold heard a tiny blonde girl whisper from his right. A curly-haired brunette leaned over to her in her desk and added, "She looks like something out of a horror movie, but she's still pretty."

Arnold found himself agreeing with the girls as he studied the lady more. Her slender figure was very visually pleasing, but her face, when not smiling, looked extremely morose. The drastic black makeup added to the weary look that was already in her eyes. Arnold's gaze darted from the teacher to the photograph that had caught his attention earlier. Tapping on Helga's desk, he began to whisper, "Helga, doesn't she--"

But he was cut off. The teacher stood in the center of the front of the room and spread her arms as if they were wings. Every whisper quickly died.

"Good morning, all of you," she said plainly, half-smiling. Her voice, if liquidated, would probably be a light coffee of some sort, Helga thought. Helga was normally the type of girl who decided whether or not she liked someone within the first five minutes of meeting them, and this time, she decided that she'd like this teacher.

"Welcome, to Theater Arts I," she continued smoothly, letting her arms fall to their sides. "I am your instructor for this course, and my name is Miss Elena Hawkins. I am, of course, going to tell you what we'll be doing in this class, but let's take roll, shall we?"

As she seemed to have floated behind her desk, the students' eyes were glued to her. Most teenagers would take this chance to chat quietly amongst themselves, but there wasn't so much as a whisper as she fumbled through folders silently to take out her attendance sheet. Arnold found it strange that a class would be so attentive on a first day, but Miss Hawkins didn't seem to think so. Maybe she was used to this kind of reaction.

"Sadie--Applebee," she said aloud, looking over the heads for a raised hand. The little blond girl sitting near Arnold raised hers.

"Lovely blouse, Sadie," Miss Hawkins said, smiling. Sadie blushed and grinned madly at her curly-haired friend.

"Blake. Blake Bourg," she said, and a muscular, sandy-haired boy in the back raised his hand.

Miss Hawkins continued down the list, and within a minute reached the P's. "Daniel Palmer," she said, and a slender, raven-haired boy in a blue shirt raised his hand quickly. She smiled more widely at this particular boy than at anyone else, and then said, "Pataki, Helga Pataki."

Helga raised her hand, and upon meeting her eyes, she felt a sort of electric shock.

"I've always loved your name, Helga," she said smoothly, darkly, in a way that seemed almost flirtatious. "Very romantic."

The blond turned very red, expecting several snickers from the other students, but none came. They all seemed to be too focused on Miss Hawkins.

Upon finishing roll call, she looked up at the clock and then sat on a stool at the front of the room. With a huff, she smiled at the class and said, "Now then, ask me anything you'd like, but I'll need to stop you in a few minutes just so we can quickly do an overview of the course and then you'll be on your merry way. Does anyone want to know anything?"

Blake Bourg's hand shot up in the air.

"Yes, Blake?"

"How old are you?" he asked eagerly, failing to hide his smile.

Several of the students giggled, and Miss Hawkins herself even smiled a bit, but she answered plainly, "I turned thirty in January."

While even more of the kids split into giggles, another hand shot up.

"Sadie?"

"How long have you been teaching?"

"This will be my fifth year…yes, Diana?"

"Have you ever been married?" asked the curly-haired friend of Sadie Applebee's.

The color drained a little from Miss Hawkins' face, but she answered smilingly, "No, dear."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" one of the boys in the back asked without raising his hand.

Miss Hawkins bit her lip and looked at the ground, and for a moment Arnold thought she wasn't going to answer, but she looked back at the boy and smiled, answering, "I don't."

While Arnold's fellow ninth-graders engaged into an uproar, he took the opportunity to ask what he had a feeling was a very personal question. Raising his hand slowly, he caught her eye.

"Yes, Arnold?"

"Miss Hawkins, could you tell me--is that you, in that picture over your desk?"

She didn't look back. She didn't have to; he saw in her face that she knew exactly which photograph he was referring to. With a faint smile, she replied, "Yes, Arnold, that's me, at twenty-five."

"Would you mind telling me who's in it with you?" he asked nervously; the words seemed to have spilled out of his mouth slower than he intended.

Her lip quivered as she glanced back at the photo. She seemed to be gazing at it longingly, lovingly. Slowly she made her way in between Arnold's desk and Helga's.

"His name was Palmer."

Arnold looked confused; she seemed to have seen it in his face because she backed away from his desk as she said, "He died last summer."

--

The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur. Helga could think of nothing other than that poor Miss Hawkins and her supposed lost love; the photograph above her desk was all she saw when she closed her eyes. Her focus wasn't on anything but her imaginative story behind that woman's past--she had so many questions for her, but knew that it would be inappropriate to ask them, at least during school. She guessed that she could come after school or during free period to talk to her, but maybe it was too soon in the year to ask. Since she had no intention of doing anything for extra credit yet, it wouldn't make any sense to be asking for time with her after school--not to other teachers, anyway. Helga had a feeling that Miss Hawkins was the type of teacher to meet up with her favorite students in coffee shops around the city on weekends. A part of her hoped that this theory was true; that she could be one of them someday.

The only person who was as seriously curious as she would have to be Arnold, but she surely wasn't going to be the one to bring up a serious subject in conversation, especially not out of the blue. The only other person she really trusted to talk to about her crazy notions was Doctor Bliss, whom she was scheduled to meet with at three that afternoon.

Doctor Bliss' office hadn't changed much over the years. Maybe that was because Helga had been visiting it three times a week since she was ten, but she also didn't want to admit that it was capable of change. The purple lounge chair was still in the far right corner, all the same books donned the shelves, the same paintings lined the walls, and Dr. Bliss' desk was still a mess of a papers. The office was more home to Helga than any other place, including her actual house, and she didn't like to think that one day it wouldn't be there anymore.

Helga felt the same about Dr. Bliss herself. She seemed young when Helga met her, but by the time she entered eighth grade, she started to notice how much older she really was. Gray hairs had developed in her chestnut brown hair, and her body was slightly bulkier than it used to be. Her face, however, was free of wrinkles, and there were no bags under her eyes--but Helga supposed that she had begun to use cream to prevent such signs of aging. The woman's warm smile and inviting flowery scent, which comforted her in the beginning, however, hadn't changed a bit. At forty, Helga thought, Dr. Bliss was a very pretty woman.

The session began as it always did. A knock on the door, a soft "come in, Helga," from inside, and a deep inhale of the ambrosial smell of Dr. Bliss' perfume. The blond swung her hair about her shoulders and undid the clasp on the choker that hugged her neck as she sat in the lounge chair.

"How was the first day?" Dr. Bliss asked her sweetly, removing her spectacles and smiling at the girl.

"Eh, it was okay," Helga told her, tapping her feet on the floor. It was just then that she realized that her legs no longer dangled over the edge of the chair.

"What are your classes like?" the psychologist asked casually, shifting in her seat.

"Pretty boring," Helga answered equally as casually. That was how things always started. Casual conversation until Dr. Bliss found something to pick at, something that could be potentially problematic. Helga figured out that was the way she worked, so she went along with it. After her confession about Arnold years ago, there was hardly a thing that she didn't feel comfortable discussing with her anyway.

"What ones are you taking this year?"

Bored, Helga tipped her fingers off as she named them. "Algebra, Earth science, US history, English I, Creative Writing I, and Theater Arts I."

"Very good. I'm glad you've taken up on that creative writing class, it'll be very fun for you."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You seem unenthusiastic about it," Dr. Bliss pointed out. She knew Helga was going to retort.

"I'm not _unenthusiastic_, Doc, I just don't think it's going to be exciting."

"Why not?"

"I don't know anyone in that class."

"You'll get to know some of them, I'm sure."

"Too bad I don't really want to."

"Why wouldn't you want to?"

Helga sighed, frustrated. It had become, over time, her signal to Dr. Bliss to change the subject, which she did.

"Do you like any of your other classes? Theater sounds really nice."

"It is."

"Is Arnold in that class with you?"

"He's in every class with me but the creative writing class," Helga tried to say it without smiling, but failed miserably. Her cheeks turned a light shade of magenta as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

"That must be really nice to have him with you so much during the school day. Does he walk you to your classes?"

"We walked together all day today," she half-grunted, but still smiled.

Dr. Bliss smiled herself, probably imagining the two blondes walking down every hallway side by side and laughing. "How do you think he likes it?"

"Well I guess he likes it fine, since he kept asking me if it was all right that he walked with me down--"

Dr. Bliss giggled. "No, honey, I meant the school."

Helga's face turned a deeper shade of magenta as she stammered, "Oh, uh, he said it was really exciting, so yeah, I guess he likes it fine."

Dr. Bliss nodded and sipped her tea. She would always offer some to Helga, even though she knew she would refuse.

"Are your teachers nice?"

"Well, my history teacher acts like he's got something stuck up his ass, but yeah, the rest of them are pretty nice."

"Most of my teachers were terrible my freshman year."

"Did you get snippy with any of them?"

"No, I was always pretty quiet. Never talked back. Actually, I hardly talked to anyone when I was in high school."

"Why?" Helga asked. She loved it whenever Dr. Bliss would turn stories around and tell her about her young life.

"I was content with the few friends I had, and, well, to tell the truth I liked books much more than I ever liked people. Older people, that is. I was a big fan of the younger kids, which is why I knew I wanted to be a child psychologist."

"Kids understand better, sometimes," Helga said, remembering how clever and considerate Arnold always had been, even in his elementary days.

"Yes they do. Did you ever talk to your mother about her high school experience?"

Helga sighed. Truth be told, Miriam was big on telling childhood stories, but most of the time she was too drunk to talk. Since she and Big Bob had been having issues the previous summer, her consumption of alcohol had tripled, and Helga didn't want to bother her by asking trivial questions, especially about the past. The past was so much better for her mother, and Helga was sure that she didn't want to be the one to remind her that she was never going to feel as good as she used to ever again.

"Subject never really came up over the summer."

"She's still drinking frequently?" Dr. Bliss knew basically everything about the Patakis.

Helga sighed lightly; her way of saying yes.

"Do you ever mention getting help?"

"She wouldn't listen to me."

"Have you tried?"

Helga groaned. "Bob wouldn't let her go, he wouldn't want to admit that his wife has problems."

"I'm pretty sure he's got his own as well. He doesn't want to admit to having his own, does he?"

"No." Helga knew Big Bob had never admitted to being wrong or having any kind of difficulty with anything, and he wasn't going to start anytime soon.

"It's hard for adults," Dr. Bliss said, rising from her chair. She walked slowly towards a painting on the wall closest to the lounge chair, the one with a man lifting a lady into the air as they both laughed.

Helga faced her back, also looking at the painting. Something about it was uncomfortably familiar. Her mouth sank into a confused frown, and Dr. Bliss turned around to face her just in time to notice.

"What's wrong, Helga?"

Shaking her head, but not tearing her eyes away from the painting, Helga shrugged. "I just looks like a picture I saw in my theater teacher's room."

Dr. Bliss looked back at the painting. Biting her lip, she was silent for a moment. Still not facing Helga, she asked, "What's that teacher's name…?"

"Miss Hawkins. Elena Hawkins."

--

_Who could be calling at this hour…?_

Arnold rolled over in his bed several times before he picked up his cell phone. The caller ID told him it was Helga. Helga rarely ever phoned Arnold, so he figured it must be something important, so anxiously, he flipped it open and breathed hello.

She didn't say it back. Instead, she rambled nervously about the photo in Miss Hawkins' room, and how Dr. Bliss had a painting that looked similar hanging in her office, and about how she asked if Dr. Bliss knew their teacher but the conversation was turned around and her questions were left unanswered.

"And I know this has gotta sound really petty and stupid, but I think it means something and I think there's something really weird about this Hawkins lady and I really wanna find out," Helga blurted in one breath.

Arnold sat upright in his bed and scratched the top of his head, trying to process all of this information. Helga's questions rang in his mind like tiny, irritating bells that could only be quieted with the soothing sound of their answers.

"All right, Helga, I know all of this is pretty weird, but--we can't think too hard into it. I know Miss Hawkins is really interesting and all, but we can't go prying into her private life just because we're curious--"

"Arnold, you don't understand," Helga squeaked. "I need to know. Something tells me I'm supposed to know what her deal is."

He hadn't heard Helga sound this serious since Curly's fiasco. Upon hearing that sentence, most people would just call her weird, but somehow, Arnold understood. Sometimes you just _have_ to know something, even though you aren't fully aware of the reason why.

--

**Author's Note** On…Miss Hawkins: I'm getting pretty deep into this drama teacher's character, and I'm making a bridge between her and Dr. Bliss...I thought that if A/H ever were to happen, it would take the help of adults that each of them have grown to trust. Miss Elena's story is going to have a big influence on this, and I can't wait to unravel it all.


	3. Someone Missing

**Beforehand**...This is another really short chapter, but there are many exceptionally long ones coming up.

Again, **Disclaimer**: Craig Bartlett's toys--I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 3**: When We've Got Someone Missing…

_An ambulance had never pulled up in front of P.S. 118 before. The flashing red lights were hurting Arnold's eyes, and the screams and cries of his fellow students burned his ears. Several shouts of "Curly! Oh my God, Curly!" pierced his eardrums. The crowd was especially hard to push through. The teachers put forth so much effort to get everyone back to the cafeteria, but the students flocked to the entrance of the school to witness the scene that lay before them. A small boy with dark hair, glasses askew, was being carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. Arnold finally caught up to his friends; Gerald grabbed his arm and pulled him closer into the group of them. A crying Helga was holding a shaking Phoebe, and Stinky and Sid both were holding an outraged Eugene as far back as they could from a tiny group of eighth grade boys donned in black. The skinny redhead was shouting profanities that none of his friends ever expected to hear from him of all people, but they were all too shocked, too upset to really take it in. Rhonda leaned against Harold; her streaming tears caused her black mascara to stain her perfect face. Nadine, who wasn't crying but still distraught, was holding tightly to her friend's hand and whispering words Arnold couldn't hear to Sheena, who was standing nearby. Gerald elbowed Arnold's ribs and tried to talk to him, but the sirens were so loud that he could only make out a few phrases: "--might not make it…several pills…dangerous…only takes one time…might kill him…"_

--

The ring of Arnold's cell phone woke him up.

"Morning," Gerald's voice came over the other line. It was much quieter and calmer than it had sounded in the dream.

"Hey, man," Arnold said into the phone, sitting upright in his bed.

"You okay? You sound groggy," Gerald asked. Somehow he always knew when Arnold was even the least bit distressed.

"I just…I had a nightmare," Arnold stated, scratching the top of his head.

"Curly's fiasco coming back to haunt you?" Gerald said knowingly.

"Well, yeah," Arnold said plainly, frowning. "I don't know why, but I keep dreaming about it."

"We all do, man, no matter what anyone says," his friend told him. "But think of it, Curly's coming back next summer, and he'll be okay."

The thought was very consoling, especially hearing it from Gerald, so Arnold nodded and sighed, then asked what his friend had planned for Friday. They wouldn't have school until Monday; the school board was gracious enough to give them that benefit.

"Phoebe was talking about burying a time capsule in the vacant lot or something," Gerald said, sounding a bit excited. "She wants everyone to meet up there around three. Wanna do it?"

Arnold wet his lips and thought about it. "Sounds good, but what do I put in the capsule?"

"Psh, I dunno man, I'm putting my old baseball glove in it."

"All right, I'll think of something. See you at three."

"See you at three, man."

When their conversation ended, Arnold rose out of his bed and made his way downstairs to the bathroom. During his shower, he thought of all of the objects he could put in the capsule--his own baseball bat, the flannel shirt he used to always wear, his first pair of roller blades, the horn from his first bike--and then he made his decision. He knew exactly what to put in it.

--

"I can't _believe_ I ever _wore_ these, ugh!"

Rhonda tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and dropped a tiny pair of blue pumps into the small ditch in the ground.

Arnold was slowly making his way over to the group as Phoebe called, "Arnold! You're just in time! Rhonda was the first one to put something in."

"I have no _idea_ what I was thinking when I asked Daddy to buy those for me," Rhonda continued, seeming strangely disappointed in herself.

"They matched the blue dress you wore for your twelfth birthday party, remember?" Nadine told her happily. "Plus, you know they were your first pair of real heels--they have sentimental value."

"Which is why I sent them into the time capsule," Rhonda said plainly, examining her fingernails.

"I'm putting these in," Nadine said aloud, kneeling beside the ditch and tossing in a tiny box.

"What's in that box?" Sheena asked. Her voice never lost its squeak.

"A bunch of pictures I took of the woods behind my house--I got some really pretty ones of butterflies and beetles, but I figured it would be nice to put them away for a while. I mean, think of how cool it's gonna be when I see them when high school's finished!"

"What?" Gerald asked, turning to Phoebe. "You mean we can't dig this shit up until we graduate?"

"That's the general idea, Gerald," Phoebe answered, grinning. "I myself put my old glasses in there--I figure by the time we enter senior year, I'll be using contacts, so--"

"What are _you_ putting in, Gerald?" Stinky interrupted, tossing in a box of lemon pudding mix.

"I was _gonna_ put in my old baseball glove, but I figured I'd rather get rid of my old Pop Daddy cassettes…"

"What will you put in, Arnold?" Phoebe asked politely.

Arnold shrugged and said, "You'll see. I want everyone else to put in their stuff first. Mine's sort of…really special."

The rest of the group placed their items into the ditch one by one--Harold, an old Mr. Fudgy bar; Sid, his beetle boots; Eugene, a record of old medical bills; Lila, a gold necklace that Olga Pataki had given her for the Big Sis-Little Sis program; Sheena, a picture of the group on a nature hike from elementary school. Helga was next to put something in, but she hesitated.

"Whatever is the matter, Helga?" Lila asked innocently, putting a hand on the taller girl's shoulder. Helga shrugged it off.

"It just feels weird doing this when we've got someone missing."

"Who's missing?" Harold asked loudly; Sid elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, "Curly, stupid!"

Arnold slowly walked to Helga's spot by the ditch. She didn't want to meet his eyes, because she knew if she did, she'd start to cry. Helga hadn't cried in front of anyone since seventh grade, and she thought it was too soon to let it happen again. Arnold didn't look at her face; he simply took her hand in his, palm up, placed a small object in it, and closed her fingers around it. Smiling, he pulled his baseball card of Mickey Kaline out.

"We'll put them all in together, okay?"

Reassured, Helga smiled weakly back at him as she removed a small, pink book from her shoulder bag. She waited until he nudged her arm, and the two of them tossed in the three items--the little pink book, the baseball card, and the item they chose for Curly--his Wankyland pencil.

--

**Author's Rant--Curly's Fiasco**: I wanted several random, dramatic twists in the plot, and this just happened to be the first one. I really wanted a drug incident, and next to Sid, I thought Curly was my best candidate. Plus, the fact that he "went away" for a while and came back for high school just fits in the way that I've sort of calmed his character down. I don't know why I made this "fiasco" such an important detail in the plot, but I'm running around with scissors over here. I want this story to be as juicy as possible, kind of reminiscent of an episode of Degrassi. This is step one of making it "go there."


	4. Someone Like Arnold

**Before**...Yeah, another relatively short chapter. My apologies. Hopefully it's keeping your interest, but eh, I wrote this for myself. But if you like it, awesome.

**Disclaimer**: Bartlett's toys--I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 4**: Someone Like Arnold

Helga felt that the rest of September seemed to fly past. The days were very hot but short-lived, and the nights were humid and long and lonely. School was exciting, but after the first week had been finished out, she decided that she was ready for Christmas vacation. The only reason she went to school anyway was to see Arnold, and it seemed that the only reason he went was to help her find out more about their mysterious drama teacher.

Miss Hawkins' way of running class was nothing out of the ordinary--the first two weeks of school were spent reading chapters in a book about the history of theater, but by the time October had arrived, she had her students practicing scenes in the auditorium. To Helga's delight, Arnold always asked her to be his acting partner, despite her frequent displays of reluctance towards the idea. Miss Hawkins loved watching the two of them perform together; she frequently asked them to perform for her on the stage after school. It was a day close to Halloween that she asked them to stay in her class during their lunch period to discuss plans of putting together a play.

"I would have to get permission from Miss Borders, but I'm almost positively sure that she would embrace the idea," she told them. The excitement in her voice was subtle but infectious.

"What play did you have in mind?" Arnold asked her after swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

"I'm actually looking for one," she replied, toying with the lid on her coffee holder. "I'm trying to find something that I know the two of you could play perfect leads in…"

Helga tried to keep her grin to herself, but it escaped and plastered itself onto her face. Luckily, Arnold's curiosity kept him focused on Miss Hawkins' research.

"Have you envisioned anything for us?" he asked eagerly, glancing at the papers on her desk. Most of them were loose leaf notebook tear-outs with fancy black letters scribbled into every line.

"Actually," she giggled, sifting through the papers, "as you can see here, I've tried writing my own pieces for you, though I can't seem to really…" she picked up one paper, glanced over it, then tossed it aside and picked up another. "I'm not sure what to do for either of you just yet, just because I'm still getting to know you…" she crumbled that piece and picked up two different ones. "I want to give you a play that you both can really sink your teeth into and"--she sighed, exasperated, and threw both of the papers out her hands, then picked up another--"put your whole heart into, you know? A role that you'll remember playing for the rest of your lives…"

Helga was silent while Miss Hawkins and Arnold tossed papers around and made suggestions of already existing plays; she lost herself in her thoughts about the kind of romantic story she'd love to compose and transpose into a theatrical drama for herself and her beloved. Perhaps a story reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet?…_No, we did that play back in fourth grade, no sense repeating history_…_although that kissing scene was pretty boss_…Some kind of Cinderella Man?…_No, Arnold probably wouldn't go for that_…Something about a girl who was desperately and hopelessly in love with a friend who was too blind to even _guess_ the truth?…_No, _way_ too close to reality_…although…_Maybe_--

"Helga? Helga?"

The blond was brought back to Earth at the sound of Miss Hawkins smooth voice. "What?"

"What do you think?"

Helga raised an eyebrow, obviously confused.

"You went daydreaming again, didn't you?" Miss Hawkins said slyly, lifting her coffee cup to her lips.

"I was not," Helga snapped, "I was just--I--"

Sparing her an explanation, Miss Hawkins began, "I think we should wait a few weeks to start on anything. Do you agree?"

Helga blinked several times and looked from her to Arnold, who nodded and half-smiled. "Well, uh, yeah, I guess, I mean--I don't make decisions around here, _Elena_."

Miss Hawkins nodded and sipped her coffee, disregarding the fact that a student addressed her by her first name. Secretly, she preferred it that way, and was glad that one of her favorite children noticed, even though she was sure she only did it to be defiant.

"Excellent." Miss Hawkins smacked her lips and placed her coffee cup next to her computer. "Now then, Arnold, you may run along to lunch period now--Helga, if you don't mind, I'd like to keep you here the last twenty minutes--there's a couple of things I'd like to…_discuss_ with you," she spoke the last three words very slowly but sweetly, like molasses.

Arnold gave her a grin, grabbed his messenger bag, told Helga he'd meet her after seventh period, and was out the door. Helga looked after him, almost smiling and praying that Miss Hawkins hadn't noticed.

She did.

"He's a special boy, that Arnold," she said slowly, looking at the doorway.

"Special doesn't even…uh--I mean--" Helga cut herself out of her temporary trance, searching for something mean to substitute what she wanted to say, but was cut off.

"You've known him your whole life, haven't you?" she asked randomly, still looking at the doorway.

Helga swallowed and rubbed her left arm; a sign that had always meant to give away her discomfort. "Uh--how do you figure?"

"I figured from the way you seem so you comfortable picking on him from the way you always demand that you work together in class," she answered plainly, now looking directly at her student.

"You're pretty _observant_, Elena," Helga said in her usual catty tone of voice, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms.

Miss Hawkins giggled. "You know, none of my students have addressed me as that in years."

"I hope you're not complaining, because I'm not planning on calling you anything else," Helga said defiantly, examining her fingernails.

"No, I like it better that way."

Helga met her eyes and saw that she was grinning warmly; she raised an eyebrow.

"It gives me the impression that you're confident. I like that in a person," she said to her.

The reason why Helga called her parents by their first names was because she believed that they didn't deserve the titles of Mom and Dad. With Miss Hawkins, it was different; not out of disrespect or defiance. The woman tolerated her more than any other adult had, aside from Dr. Bliss, but also, it was as if she _understood_ Helga. Using first names with her felt like she had found a friend, and she wondered if Miss Hawkins secretly knew that.

"Be a shame to let someone like that get away," Miss Hawkins jerked her head towards the doorway. Helga knew she had reverted the conversation back to Arnold, but she didn't want to let her know that she knew.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pretending not to know what she was talking about. She had to dig deeper into this woman's mind if she was going to let her do the same.

"I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that Arnold was a considerate, honest, genuine young man. He was always like that, wasn't he?"

Helga chewed on her bottom lip to keep from smiling even the slightest bit. "Always."

"I guessed so," Miss Hawkins said, leaning back in her seat herself. "Most people like that are that way from the very beginning."

Helga shrugged and supposed that she agreed, waiting for her to say something else in regards to her beloved.

"He's got talent," she said, "A lot of it. He doesn't shine as brightly as you," she winked at Helga, "but he has a heart of gold."

"You're a little quick to judge," Helga told her, propping her feet onto the desk. Miss Hawkins did the same.

"I've seen him around the school, and around the town," she told her. "Always helping someone--he's got a pure spirit. Just yesterday I saw him in the courtyard comforting a senior girl who had just been dumped. I don't think she realized he was a freshman, but I don't think it would have mattered to her then. When someone shows you compassion like that, nothing about them matters--except that, of course. It's been a long time since I've known someone like Arnold."

"Someone?" Helga asked, trying to hide her eagerness. She knew this conversation would end up giving her some answers.

"Oh yes. When I was a bit older than you--my junior year--I fell in love with a guy just like him. Oh yes, just like Arnold," she said dreamily, looking from Helga to the ceiling. Her voice became even smoother as she went on, "He didn't _look_ like Arnold, except for maybe his eyes, but he definitely had almost the exact same personality. Such compassion, such fire--" she closed her eyes and grinned madly.

"He gave the best advice. He never turned down a favor. Any time I was in trouble, he just--appeared. Sometimes out of absolutely nowhere. I remember when my mother died, he showed up at the funeral. He said it was because he knew I needed a shoulder--my friends hadn't been there to let me lean on theirs. But yes, he was a kindred spirit, full of love. He wanted nothing more than to ensure the happiness of others, especially those he cared about. I only wish I treated him better."

Helga swallowed. "What did you do to him?"

Miss Hawkins gave a small laugh and told her, "Oh, I was a bit of a bitch, as you'd say. I didn't _torture_ him, I just--I didn't appreciate what he did for me because, well--I didn't think I deserved it. So I pushed him away, just like I did everyone else."

"How did you do that?" Helga asked quietly, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable.

"It was something that happened little by little," she began, losing her smile. "I never let him hold me when I was sad; I never let him see me cry after my mother died. I never let him in my mind, because I was so sure that he--like my father and every other boy I'd come in contact with--would eventually use what he knew to hurt me. I didn't trust him. I should have. But I didn't, and when he realized that, he drifted away, and I couldn't pull him back."

Helga bit her lip and wrung her hands in her lap. The reason why she knew she had to get to know secrets about this woman was becoming very clear to her.

Miss Hawkins let a few silent minutes pass before she asked, "Helga…are you okay darling?"

The blonde shook her head and began to stammer. "I'm--I'm fine, it's just--wow, that--that was a story."

"You know the moral, of course," Miss Hawkins said to her, smiling again almost devilishly.

"Yeah, I think I do," Helga told her, and it wasn't a lie--she knew exactly why Elena Hawkins shared that information with her.


	5. Maybe White Isn't My Color

**Before...**Last update for today. I suppose I'll wait for reviews before I put up another chapter. I'm so new at that I got so excited uploading chapters, haha. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Bartlett's toys--I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 5:** Maybe White Isn't My Color

Arnold always loved Halloween. Even though Grandma always got it confused with Christmas and decorated the house with garlands and holly instead of pumpkins, he enjoyed the sound of children's laughter in the streets and the surplus of candy. He didn't feel like dressing up that year, but Gerald had convinced him to throw together a costume and join him at Rhonda's big "Monster Mash."

"_It's gonna be __tight_, Arnold! You _gotta_ be there!" Gerald exclaimed over the phone on Mischief Night.

"I don't know, Gerald, I was thinking of taking up Grandpa on his idea of horror movies all night," Arnold sighed, thinking of the noise and irritating music that would probably be playing at the party.

"You'd rather sit on the couch with your grandpa all night than chat up the fly ladies in tiny outfits?" Gerald asked him, outraged.

Arnold rolled his eyes and unwillingly pictured Lila in a skimpy, tight black witch's costume. This vision was enough to make him tell Gerald that he'd be there, but as soon as he'd hung up, he really wished he hadn't thought of it.

Sid called not even three minutes after Arnold ended his conversation with Gerald, asking him whether or not he should go as a vampire hunter. Arnold suggested something more original, and Sid decided that he'd call Harold and convince him into wearing a dragon costume while he, Stinky, and Arnold go to the party as knights in armor.

"Sid, do I really have to--"

"Come on Arnold, this is gonna be wicked awesome! Plus, you know how much the ladies love a knight in shining armor," he said slyly.

Arnold groaned, imagining how badly he'd sweat in a chain mail, even a fake one, but agreed to Sid's proposal and hung up. Rhonda called shortly after.

"Gerald told me you're coming! I'm thrilled Arnold, just totally thrilled. Now, what are you going as?"

Sighing, Arnold told her, "Sid thought of this idea that he and Stinky and I come as knights and Harold will go as a dragon."

"How original! Kudos to Sid for that stroke of brilliance! Well, thanks Arnold, I just wanted to make sure that no two people are gonna have the same costume. See you tomorrow! Remember, party starts at seven sharp!" With that, Rhonda hung up.

Arnold groaned, incredulous to the fact that he'd just gotten himself into a mess. Plopping himself onto his bed, he shifted his body and stared up through the windows in his ceiling. The stars were shining brightly above his head and the honks and screeching wheels from the city streets calmed him. His imagination reverted back to Lila in the witch's costume, and again he questioned himself why he was thinking of her. They barely talked in middle school after the awkward together-or-not ordeal in the fourth and fifth grades, but somehow he almost wanted her again.

"Don't sweat it, Arnold," Gerald told him a year or so before. "There's more where she came from. Honestly, man, she's not that special."

It took Arnold a couple of years to realize that. As he met more and more girls, the less enticing Lila became because most of them were just like her. Of course, not all of them used the annoyingly endearing words she did like "ever-so" and "oh-so," but plenty of them had the same naïve and innocently girlish charm. It was better not to dwell on her, he decided, and erased the image of her from his mind.

--

"Sid, this thing is so heavy--"

"It's protection, Arnold, just wear it--"

"Protection from what? Harold would no sooner eat us than he would run away crying for his mom if he saw us with swords, even as a dragon--"

"It's a freakin' _costume_, Arnold, now play along and put it on!"

Sid, Stinky, and Harold all had met at Arnold's house in the afternoon to prepare for Rhonda's party. Stinky managed to put together his pseudo-armor with ease, but Sid and Arnold had some difficulty.

"The chain mail ain't the problem, fellers," Stinky told them in his lazy Southern drawl. "Yer puttin' the chest plate on backwards, see? Here--it goes like this--"

"Have any of you guys seen my nose? I think it fell off as we were comin' up here," Harold said loudly, tripping over the tail of his costume.

"Yer nose is over on the table, Harold," Stinky told him, adjusting Arnold's chest plate from the back. He snapped the clasp closed and grinned. "There ya go, Arnold. I reckon the ladies are gonna be all over us, on account'a we look pretty darn good as knights."

The three friends did indeed clean up well; Stinky slicked his brown hair back and Sid allowed his dark locks to fringe over his eyes. Arnold's blond hair stuck up as it usually did, but the shiny armor brought out the glimmer in his olive eyes.

"Are you guys ready yet?" Harold asked loudly; his voice was muffled from the dragon's head he wore.

"Yeah, I think we can go now," Arnold said, chuckling at the sight of Harold. The green dragon costume certainly made him look more like something out of a kiddie cartoon than an epic fairy tale.

--

The streets were crowded with small children donned in varieties of costumes as Arnold and the boys combed their way to Rhonda's extravagant house. The outside of it was decorated heavily with life-size tombstones, mannequin monsters, and carved pumpkins; the laughter and music from inside could be heard clearly from the stoop. Arnold was the first to reach the door, and upon the second knock Rhonda opened it. She was dressed in a lavish Victorian style ball gown; her raven hair was teased and neatly adorned with rhinestone barrettes. She flashed her pearly white teeth at her fresh guests and said loudly, "So glad you could make it. Food is on the table in the room to your left; mostly everyone is in the living room. Enjoy yourselves!"

Arnold guessed that there were at least a hundred people scattered about the different rooms. The music blared over the stereo speakers in the living room and the chatter was the loudest from the spare room were the food table was set up. Arnold hadn't even reached the punch before Gerald bustled around several people and pulled him in for a hard handshake.

"I knew you were gonna make it, man! You're looking pretty uh--fierce, in that armor. Slay any dragons yet?" he joked, eyeing Harold and chuckling.

"Can it, Johanssen, or I'll take this suit off and pound you," Harold roared menacingly, his voice still muffled from the costume. In a huff, he grabbed his tail and followed Sid into the living room. Stinky saw a couple of girls he knew from his Algebra class and told Arnold he'd catch up with him later on.

"See anything nice yet?" Gerald asked Arnold, leaning against the punch table.

"Gerald, I just walked in, plus this helmet thing makes it a little hard to see--"

"So take it off, man! And look around, enjoy the view," Gerald smirked in Phoebe's direction, who was looking extremely attractive in a short white dress. Judging by the red cross cap on her head and the stethoscope about her neck, Arnold guessed she'd come as a nurse.

Arnold removed the helmet and placed it in the coat closet, then followed Gerald to the back of the spare room, where several girls they knew were seated on the couches. To his delight and dismay, Lila was there, dressed as a suggestive Little Red Riding Hood; the red cape she had tied to her back had the most material out of everything she wore. She was chatting with Sheena, who hadn't surprised anyone by showing up as a hippie. The belly shirt she sported, however, definitely showed off her beautifully toned stomach. Eugene definitely noticed, since he had his arm about her waist. He looked very good himself dressed like James Dean.

"I'm gonna go ask Phoebe if she wants to go dance, okay?" Gerald told Arnold, pointing in the Japanese girl's direction. Arnold nodded and decided that he might as well try and strike up conversation with Lila, but someone approached him before he could step foot near her area.

"Hey, Arnold," a small blond girl dressed as Little Bo Beep appeared at Arnold's side. Upon looking at her freckles, he recognized her as Sadie Applebee, one of his theater classmates.

"Oh, hey Sadie, nice costume," he complimented her.

"Thanks, you too, Sir Knight," she joked, lightly touching his arm. "Did you just get here?"

"Yeah, did you?"

"Nah, I got here a while ago, I came with Blake," she gestured towards the couch, where the muscular boy sat with Peapod Kid and Iggy. He was dressed as a cowboy while the other two boys looked like secret agents.

"Ah, that's--nice," Arnold told her, forcing a smile. Truthfully, he didn't think Blake was too nice at all after he picked on Arnold in theater class.

Sadie sensed his discomfort because she giggled and said, "It's okay, he can be a real jerk. I was actually thinking of breaking up with him last week."

"Oh, wow, uh, I'm sorry," Arnold said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it, he can be pretty terrible. It took me a week to forgive him for criticizing you during theater. I told him you couldn't help the fact that you're a better actor. He's not used to not being the best."

Arnold's face reddened at her compliment; he didn't find himself that wonderful of an actor at all, but then again it didn't take a great deal of talent to be better than Blake Bourg.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your night, Sadie," Arnold told her politely. "And, really, if he doesn't make you happy, or treat you well--"

"I know," she cut him off, but smiled widely. "You're such a sweet guy, Arnold. Lila's so lucky."

"What?" Arnold asked, alarmed. Glancing a few feet away at Lila and then back at Sadie, he asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I thought you guys had a thing or something," Sadie said innocently, looking surprised.

"Lila and I haven't talked a lot since seventh grade," Arnold told her, not meaning to sound as stern as he did.

"Oh, well, that's not what she said," Sadie told him, looking confused. She opened her mouth to say more, but Blake called to her angrily from his spot on the couch. "Sorry Arnold--go talk to her, because something's up."

_Damn right something's up_, Arnold thought as he made his way over to Lila, Sheena, and Eugene. The three of them smiled warmly as they saw him approaching.

"Hey, Arnold, having fun?" Eugene asked brightly; his arm was still gripping Sheena's waist.

"Not as much as you guys seem to be," he told them, grinning at Eugene's hand. "What's this all about?"

"Eugene asked me out a few days ago, you didn't know?" Sheena said happily, placing her hand on her boyfriend's.

Arnold grinned at the couple and said, "No, no, but it's good news, really good. I'm glad you guys got together."

"King and queen of the geeks, everyone used to say," Eugene joked. "I guess it just makes sense that we'd wind up together, right?"

The couple laughed at each other and sighed, then Eugene said to Arnold, "Well, we're gonna go dance, you can join us if you want."

"Thanks, but I actually came over here to have a word with Lila, if that's all right," he said, his voice getting harder as he glanced at the auburn-haired girl. She blinked at him obliviously.

"We'll see you later then, Arnold," Sheena said sweetly. "Later, Lila!"

Lila waved at the exiting couple and then looked expectantly at the blond boy, who grabbed her arm and led her to a corner near the coat closet.

"Listen, Lila, I know we haven't talked that much in the last year or so, but if you want to ever start to again, I would suggest keeping rumors out of the picture," he told her quietly. He didn't know why he felt so angry about what was probably a misunderstanding.

"Arnold, I'm ever so certain that I don't know what you're talking about. What rumor did you hear?"

"Sadie Applebee was under the impression that we're dating, and she told me she got her information from you," he said to her, keeping his cool but allowing her to see that he was upset.

"I'm _oh_ too certain that I didn't tell her that, Arnold," Lila said to him innocently, raising her eyebrows. Her small voice shook noticeably.

"You're positive you didn't say that to her? Because she sounded pretty sure of herself, Lila," Arnold said fiercely, looking intensely at her face.

"She must have misunderstood something I said, because I most certainly wouldn't lie about something like that," she said quickly, taking a step back from Arnold. He released his grip on her arm.

Unconvinced, he waited a moment and studied her face. Her eyebrows were raised so high that they had disappeared under her bangs, and the pink in her cheeks had darkened severely. Calmly, he muttered, "Okay Lila. That's all I need to know."

She had to be leaving something out, he was sure of it, but he wasn't going to allow himself to hassle the girl. "Sorry if I was stern, Lila--I just don't like it when I'm being lied to."

"I'm ever so certain that it's okay, Arnold," she said quickly, and then darted off to the back of the room.

--

Arnold was in an odd mood the remainder of the party. Gerald had persuaded him to dance and he supposed that he was having fun for a while, but the run-in with Lila was buzzing about his brain like a bothersome fly. He didn't talk to the redheaded girl the rest of the night, and he couldn't decide if he was angry or just hurt. Could Sadie have been the one who started something, or did he really catch Lila in a fib?

By ten o' clock, about half of the party-goers had left, and Rhonda decided to make most of the remaining guests play Scattegories in the spare room. Arnold was among the few that excused themselves from the game; he decided to take the opportunity to sit out on the balcony and enjoy the fresh night air and stars.

Not a soul was in sight as he stepped out into the moonlight. Arnold pulled up the first chair he saw all the way up the railing and leaned back into it, inhaling and exhaling slowly. He looked about himself and saw something silhouetted by a nearby candlelight.

"Huh?" he said aloud, looking at the small table by the shrubbery on the end of the balcony. "Is someone over there?"

"Why are _you_ out here, Arnoldo?"

Helga. He should have guessed.

"Same reason why you are, probably," he replied.

"Not in the mood for lame party games, either?" she droned.

"Scattegories isn't my favorite," he said sweetly, rising from his chair. "How long have you been out here?"

"Since Stinky suggested naked Twister an hour ago. I was gonna stick around in time to listen to Princess Lloyd scream profanities at him but it didn't happen as soon as I wanted it to."

Arnold made his way over to the table that Helga was seated at. He pulled up to sit in the chair across from her so that her face wasn't hidden in shadow, but soaked in moonlight. If he didn't catch himself, he would have blurted aloud that he thought she looked extremely pretty just then. Her blond hair was teased and her makeup was done very lightly, and she donned a tiny white dress similar to Phoebe's. The only differences were that angel wings were pinned to her back and white stockings were stretched over her gorgeous legs.

"An angel, huh?" Arnold said lightly, hoping to better her usual bad mood.

"Phoebe's idea," she groaned, but smiled very slightly. "She's been stuck to Tall Hair Boy all night, so I mostly just talked to Sadie and Diana."

Arnold perked up; out of curiosity, he asked, "Speaking of Sadie, did she anything weird to you tonight?"

Helga raised an eyebrow and rested her head on her hand. "She told me my boobs looked delicious in this dress, but other than that, no."

Arnold sighed. "She said that--well--she said Lila told her that we were going out."

"_What_?" Helga sat upright in her seat. She hoped she understood the usage of "we" correctly. Someone seriously supposed that she and Arnold were dating?

"Yeah, she said that Lila was a lucky girl"--_Shit, I was wrong_, Helga realized--"and I asked her why and she said that Lila told her I was her boyfriend or something."

The blond girl sunk back in her seat and said, "Oh. Why the hell did Lila tell her _that_? It's not like you guys have said more than two sentences to each other since we were twelve."

"That's what I was thinking," Arnold began, "so I confronted Lila about it and she swears that there was a miscommunication or something. I don't know."

"I'm not convinced," Helga sneered. "I never trusted her."

"You never really liked her, Helga," Arnold said, suddenly realizing it himself as soon as he said it.

"And your point is?" Helga started, leaning over the table.

Arnold shook his head and told her, "Nothing, I was just stating what I thought was a fact."

"Well, it _is_ a fact, Arnoldo--I never liked her and I never will and if you're smart, you'll do the same."

After she said this, Helga sank back down in her seat and began to fiddle with something that was around her neck. It was a familiar shade of pink and appeared to be of very soft material. Something about it sparked Arnold's interest without apparent reason.

"Hey, Helga, what's that?" he asked, glancing at the pink item and then back at her face.

"What's what?" she asked, and Arnold thought her voice shook. Her fingers grasped the pink item tightly.

"That," he said to her, eyeing the item again. "That thing around your neck."

"It's called a _choker_, Arnoldo," she said it sarcastically. "Why?"

Arnold shrugged casually and told her, "Nothing, it just looks familiar."

"Like what?" Helga questioned, raising one eyebrow. Arnold couldn't decide if she was nervous or uncomfortable or what, but he guessed that she might be hiding something.

To keep it from turning into something serious, Arnold plainly said, "It's just the same exact pink as that ribbon you always had in your hair since…forever."

If it were daylight, Helga wouldn't have been able to hide the red in her cheeks. Arnold knew that she remembered, but he also knew that she wouldn't want to make a discussion about this particular item for whatever reason, so he steered away from the subject. It was no use prying into Helga Pataki's mind; she wasn't keen on letting anyone inside of it.

"Well, Helga, it's late--do you need someone to walk you home? That is, if you're ready to go."

As he expected, the girl groaned and rose from her seat, muttering about something floating his boat, and the two of them went back inside to say goodnight to Rhonda and to thank her for the invitation. Quietly, they exited her house and started in the direction of Helga's. They had walked down a street or two without saying a word until Arnold found himself laughing randomly.

"Criminey, Arnold, what's so funny?" Helga demanded, looking both ways before they crossed a street. There was no need to; no one was on the road, but she was so used to doing it.

Arnold shook his head and allowed his laughter to cease before explaining himself. He felt dumb saying it, but he told her, "I was just thinking--do you remember, back in fourth grade, when you got really pissed at me and the guys for going to the cemetery without you, so you went and dressed up as the Ghost Bride and scared us?"

Helga seemed to have laughed against her will, Arnold figured, because it didn't have that evil tone to it. Unexpectedly, she added, "Yeah, yeah, and freakin' Curly went and did the same thing, so we locked him up in that coliseum for God knows how long?"

"Yeah!" Arnold let himself laugh again before he said, "Yeah, those were good times."

"Yeah," Helga agreed, but her face looked quizzical again. "Why were you thinking of _that_, of all things?"

Arnold ran his hand through his hair, wondering himself why the following sentence was his answer: "That was the last time I've ever seen you dressed in all white."

Helga was quiet for a few moments, and then busted out, "So, big deal, maybe white isn't really my _color_, Arnoldo."

Without thinking, he blurted, "Too bad. You look nice in it."

Arnold knew she would have retorted somehow if she had the time, but they had reached her house as soon as he dropped the compliment. Before she could think of one, he bid her goodnight by giving her a seemingly unwanted hug and promising to see her at school. Turning on his heel and walking in the direction of The Sunset Arms, he thought he'd heard a small sigh before he heard Helga's front door close, but convinced himself that it was merely his imagination.

--

Author's Notes--

On Lila: While reading other fics, I noticed a sort of trend that people tend to follow when developing Lila's character--most like to turn her into a slut, especially if there's A/H action in their plot. That wasn't the way I wanted to perceive her. As much as I dislike Lila, I didn't want to degrade her--I suppose it's because of my particular plot that I wanted to make sure that High School!Lila's personality remained mostly faithful to that of Elementary!Lila's. I haven't thought too much about it yet at this point, since I've barely finished the story of their freshman year, but I know that I need Lila to play a very specific part and send a specific message.

On Gerald: Like Lila, I noticed in other fics that people have turned Gerald into somewhat of a "playa" if they don't pair him up with Phoebe right away. I suppose that I'm kind of following that trend, but not so much. I was always a G/P fan; in fact, that was the pairing that made the most sense to me, but I don't want it to be an immediate action. I think I'll let a little more of each of their characters shine before I "hook them up."


	6. You'll Know

**Beforehand**--Thank you, Dark Lady of the Sith, for being my first review. As a present, here's the sixth chapter--it's a long one, so this'll definitely be enough to hold off for a while as I get started on Part 2 of freshman year. Wheeeeeeehoooo

**Disclaimer**: Bartlett's toys; I'm just playing with them

**Chapter 6**: You'll Know…When it's Time

_November 11__th__, 2002_.

_I can't remember the last time I got more than five hours of sleep. It must have been weeks ago, before Halloween. It's not like I've been especially busy or anything, it's just that instead of resting, I spend hours laying in my bed just thinking. About girls, nonetheless. I believe I've thought of every girl I've had feelings for from Ruth all the way up to Summer, but the thing is, the one that crosses my mind the most is Helga. I have no idea why I keep thinking about her, but it's really, really starting to bug me, a lot. Last night was the third night in a row that I've had a dream about her, and they weren't necessarily what one would call bad dreams, either. Each one was like a replay of the night on top of the FTI building, and I'm pretty scared that my memory reached back so far. I just keep envisioning the kiss, my first real, technical kiss that wasn't planned or rehearsed or anything like that. It was completely candid and unexpected and--amazing, scarily enough. I don't think I'll ever admit out loud that I enjoyed it, kind of, in between being shocked and nervous and anxious about saving the neighborhood. It's so strange, that while I was feeling all of that, I still managed to notice that her lips were really soft and tasted kind of like strawberry lemonade. Looking back, I almost wish that I didn't break it off so quickly, but that was five years ago…so why am I having dreams about it now? It just doesn't make sense, especially since I don't like Helga. I mean, I like her, she's my friend, but, I don't think it goes any deeper than that. At least, I hope it doesn't. I don't know why I hope that, but…I don't know. Before she kissed me, she confessed her undying love for me. To this day I have no idea what brought that about, since it was completely random, especially after all the shit she's ever done to make my life as miserable as her nine-year-old self could manage, but maybe I knew all along somehow that she felt that way. Or maybe she was lying and was serious when she said all that stuff "in the heat of the moment." I don't know. It was a heated moment, that's for sure, but…I don't know. Analyzing this is really wearing me out. I wish I could just figure her out, you know? We haven't talked about FTI since…well, since it happened. I figured it would be a forbidden subject. You know how she is, really touchy about serious things, especially when romance is involved…But now we're older, and we've both matured considerably, so maybe she won't take it the wrong way like she would have years ago. I don't know. I just wanna know why I keep thinking about her, and why I feel like I need to help her…_

_--_

It was freezing that night, way back in the seventh grade. It was November, about a week or so before Thanksgiving, and Helga had been sitting on her stoop for an hour. Not by choice, of course; she'd been locked out of her house by mistake. Her sister Olga had come home to visit while she'd been out with Phoebe, and she supposed that they'd forgotten she wasn't in the house when they secured the entrance. Helga rang the doorbell dozens of times and banged on the front windows, but no one came to let her in. She didn't have a cell phone then, so she couldn't call anyone to make them open up for her. Having given up, the blond girl sat on her stoop, alone and shivering, waiting for some higher power to call someone in the house and persuade them to open the front door.

Nearly three hours had passed when she had started to cry. This surprised Helga herself; she couldn't remember the last time she cried and couldn't figure out why she was doing it right then, but she allowed the sobs to come out heavily. She drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, feeling the tears lightly wetting her jacket, expecting to fall asleep there in minutes, since crying was so exhausting. Coughing and sniffling, Helga suddenly looked up and wiped her face in time to see a familiar blond boy standing at the bottom of the stairs. Arnold was looking right at her with sympathetic eyes, appearing to be ready to simply pounce on her and hold her. Biting her lip, she whimpered loud enough for him to hear and hid her face in her arms again. This gesture wasn't an invitation for him to comfort her, but it wasn't a request for his departure either. Within moments, she felt something warm at her side and then an arm around her shoulders. She couldn't figure out why his innocent affection towards her made her cry harder, but it did, and thankfully, he said nothing.

"I th-thought you were gonna--ask what was wrong," Helga finally managed to utter after several long minutes of weeping.

Arnold smiled gently at her and softly said, "Sometimes it's better not to ask questions."

--

Arnold didn't know why, but he was glued to his seat. Helga was passed out on his couch in front of him; her face was stained with leftover tears and her hair was falling out of its ponytail. They hadn't said much on the walk to the boarding house because she was in such a state, but when they entered Arnold's room, she seemed to finally be at ease. She cried a little more, cursing her father for being such an asshole and complaining about her mother's worsening drinking habits, and Arnold simply listened to her. It became apparent to him just then that hardly anyone in her life did.

He wondered to himself, sitting there, watching Helga sleep, what it was like to live her life. How would it feel to be ignored, compared to someone older and seemingly "better" than yourself, pushed around, uncared for, and unloved? He was jealous of her when he was younger because she had both of her parents, but it was then that he realized that the poor girl really didn't have anything that was to be envied. It became clear as to why Helga was what she was--with a power-hungry monster as a father and a scatter-brained alcoholic as a mother, Helga probably forced herself to become tough and arrogant and independent. Over time, she convinced herself that she needed to be strong, that she was better off not trusting anyone. She was accustom to disappointment; she always expected the worst turnout of every situation, and the worst was usually what she got. Especially if one threw the kind of person her older sister was into the mix, it really was no wonder that Helga had grown to be so bitter. Everything Olga touched was perfect, and anything that came near Helga usually fell to pieces.

_That's because she breaks everything that comes close to her_, Arnold thought, frowning, but something else came to his mind.

_Yes, but how can she show compassion when none has ever been shown to her?_

"_I've_ shown it to her," he whispered to himself.

_Not enough_.

--

November had given Hillwood some of the coldest days in the city's history. It was a week until Thanksgiving and Helga was already extremely sick of the freezing weather. Snow had fallen lightly on the last day of school before the holiday break, and Helga was nauseated at the sight of it.

"Snow shouldn't be falling for another two _weeks_, at least," Helga groaned, leaning back in her seat next to Phoebe on the bus.

"I think it's nice to see snow so early," Phoebe said cheerily, smiling at the sight in the window.

"You think _everything_ is nice lately," Helga grunted.

"Well, it's hard not to be in a good mood knowing that Curly's coming home."

"_What_?!"

Phoebe peered at Helga over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses. "Yes, didn't Sid tell you?"

"_NO_, when did he figure _that_ out?!" Helga questioned her loudly, causing several heads to turn in to look at their seats.

"Sid got a phone call from him last week; he'll be home before we go back to school on Tuesday," Phoebe squeaked, fiddling with her glasses.

"And _why_ did no one inform me of this?"

"I'm s-sorry Helga," Phoebe apologized, wringing her hands in her lap. "I was certain that somebody told you."

Helga grunted and folded her arms and apologized to Phoebe for yelling at her. It was more normal nowadays for her to say she was sorry than it used to be.

The remainder of the bus ride was spent talking to Phoebe cheerily about what Curly was going to look like, whether or not he would have changed very much, and what it was like for him to live with his supposed crazy aunt. Whether or not he still "had the hots" for Rhonda Lloyd was an extremely popular subject, not just with Helga and Phoebe, but with everyone who knew that he would coming back. The entire lot of P.S. 118 "graduates" discussed Curly Gammelthorpe's return with anxiety and excitement.

The "gang" had gathered at The Sunset Arms later that Wednesday to get together before everyone went away for Turkey Day, and of course, Curly's name came up in their discussion of the holiday.

"Do you think it's gonna be awkward when he gets back here?" Sid asked from his perch on one of Arnold's empty shelves. He was excited, of course, but extremely nervous as he hadn't seen him in over a year. Out of everyone, Helga knew that Sid had missed him the most; the two boys were practically living at each other's houses during seventh grade.

"Naw, can't be," Stinky told him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. "I reckon once we see him, it'll feel like he never left."

"I doubt that," Rhonda said skeptically. "He went through some kind of treatment in Sheffington, didn't he?"

"That was just a rumor," Sid snapped at her. "He had to go to the hospital here because they had to pump him back to life--he never went to a doctor again after that!"

"But why did he go to stay with his aunt, then?" Sheena asked curiously.

"Because his Dad got pissed at him for hanging out with those guys," Eugene answered her, resting his head on her shoulder. "He was seeing them for weeks before they got him to take ecstasy, and his dad strictly forbid him to. Once he found out that Curly disobeyed again, he went through with the threat of sending him to stay with Erin."

"Erin's his aunt, right?" Gerald asked.

"Yep, Erin Gammelthorpe."

"Erin Gammelthorpe," Sid repeated slowly. "The nastiest, meanest skank bitch in the--"

"Sid!" Sheena screeched. "That's a terrible thing to call someone, especially an older lady!"

Eugene snorted. "Psh, Curly's Aunt Erin is most certainly anything but a _lady_."

"Wasn't she in the military or something?" Harold asked between bites of a Twinkie.

"I thought she was married to some hard-ass who got discharged because he did drugs," Helga said, sounding sure that this was true even though her wording didn't agree.

"I think that's right," Sid said to Helga, kicking his dangling feet. "Her husband was an ass. They got divorced a couple months before Curly got sent up there."

"If she's as terrible as you guys say," Arnold began, "then why would Curly's father want to make his son stay with her?"

"Sure, she's a bitch, but she loved Curly," Sid explained. "Erin never had any kids, see, and after Curly's mom died she kind of took over for her. She was the only other woman Curly's dad trusted. She was strict, but she looked after Curly."

"He was happy over there, wasn't he?" Phoebe asked hopefully.

"Eh," Sid shrugged, "he was okay. Pretty happy, but really bored. Almost no younger people were in his neighborhood, and the private school he went to was worse than a prison, he said. Everyone was really stuck up and--well--you know how Curly is, he's…"

"Right crazy," Stinky finished, laughing.

"So he'll be back in time for school?" Phoebe asked.

"His train comes in Monday, so yeah," Eugene said, smiling.

"Does he know his schedule already?" Phoebe threw another question out there.

"They mailed it to him last week," Sid told her, grinning. "He's got Earth science with me and Rhonda" (Rhonda cringed), "and he's got our lunch period!"

The kids exchanged excited looks and murmurs of "that's great!"; Rhonda scowled at Sid and pouted.

"Garsh, you guys," Stinky started, grinning madly at Rhonda, "do you think he's still carrying a torch for Miss Lloyd?"

There was an uproar in the room; Harold laughed maniacally and jeered at Rhonda; Sid fell from the shelf onto Arnold's bed with tears in his eyes from laughing.

"Guys," Arnold started, trying to suppress his chuckles, "guys, come on--come on guys, leave Rhonda alone--"

"SHUT UP."

The laughter died in an instant. Helga rose from her seat in the corner of the room and went to sit by Rhonda on the bed.

"Geez, no need to get all catty, Helga," Sid said lightly, adjusting his baseball cap.

"Yeah, we was just making a joke, is all," Stinky reassured her, a smile still on his long face.

"Yeah, well--it's a really _old_ one, and I'm pretty sick of it," she snapped, folding her arms.

"She isn't the _only_ one." Rhonda glared at Stinky for a moment and then stuck her nose in the air.

"Well, I just think it's ever so sweet that Curly has liked Rhonda so much for such a long time," Lila muttered sweetly from her spot on the couch.

"Actually, it's kind of pathetic," Sid said, removing his cap and scratching his head. "I mean, Rhonda obviously has always thought he was a dweeb, and it just seems pretty pointless to keep chasing after her when--"

"Maybe she's something special." Helga spoke so low that barely anyone but Rhonda heard her. The raven-haired girl's face looked thoughtful instead of embarrassed now.

"I didn't have a problem with Curly after we got out of P.S. 118," Rhonda admitted, looking down at her feet. "Everyone just made such a big deal out of it and…I guess I took my frustration out on him by…"

"Treating him like dirt," Eugene finished, sounding angry at her.

"I was _not_ that terrible to him!" she argued, glaring at the redhead.

"You pretty much were," Sid said knowingly.

"No I wasn't!"

"Uh, Rhonda," Arnold began, shifting his eyes, "they're right. You kind of _were_."

Rhonda bit her lip and fell silent. Helga looked darkly at her to send the message that there was no point in arguing the matter. Everyone in the room knew that Rhonda had never been very kind to Curly, despite the fact that he was head-over-heels for her.

"Well, honestly, if you ask me, I don't think that should matter much anymore," Sheena said, breaking the momentary silence. "That's all in the past, and we've all grown up since then."

"_All_ of us…?" Helga asked rhetorically, watching Harold viciously devour his chocolate bar in disgust.

"Sheena's right," Arnold agreed. "The past has past. I'm sure Rhonda's going to be nicer to him now, right?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes and pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers, sighing loudly. Shrugging, she said, "I owe it to him, I suppose."

Arnold gave her a warm smile and then glanced over at the clock on his desk. "Guys," he said, "it's getting a little late…"

"I have to get up early tomorrow," Sheena groaned, resting her head on Eugene's. His fingers were entwined with hers.

"My plane leaves at five-thirty," Rhonda grunted. "I wish it didn't such a long time to fly to Aspen…"

"You're going there _again_?" Helga asked her.

"Half our family moved up there last year."

"I reckon I oughta be headin' home, on account'a my uncle'll be here by breakfast time tomorrow," Stinky declared, rising from the floor.

"I guess I should be getting outta here too," Sid said, hopping off of the bed. "Want me to walk you home, Rhonda?"

Surprised, Rhonda rose the edge of Arnold's bed. Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she stammered, "Well--uh, sure, I--Sid, I--I suppose I could use a--someone could take me--"

"Wicked, let's go guys," Sid interrupted her, taking her arm and leading her towards the door. "Thanks for having us, Arnold. I'll call you when Curly gets here!"

"Yeah, see ya, Arnold," Stinky said, following Sid and Rhonda. Harold, Lila, Eugene, and Sheena all said goodbyes to him as well and exited the room. Gerald bade him goodnight and escorted Phoebe home, leaving Helga alone in Arnold's bedroom.

"I guess I'll see ya when I see ya, Football Head," she told him plainly, starting towards the door.

"Helga…"

"Yeah?" she turned around to face him, not understanding why her heart was racing. What did she expect, for him to pull her in for a kiss goodnight?

"You really shouldn't be walking home by yourself--not this late."

"Gerald and Pheebs won't be that far ahead of me if I go now," she said, trying to sound impatient with him, but sensed the suggestion that was coming and hid her excitement.

"Wait just a second, I'll walk you home," he told her. His voice was low and his eyes seemed a bit droopy, but he sounded as if he really wanted to do her this small favor.

"Look at yourself, Arnoldo, you're tired as hell. I can make it by myself, honestly," she told him.

Arnold finished tying a knot in his sneakers and raised an eyebrow at her. "If you think I'm letting you walk home alone, you're crazy."

"Get your sleep, I'm fine," she insisted, allowing her voice to soften.

"Helga, I'm walking you home, end of discussion. Now let's go."

Helga thought of retorting, but decided against it. She knew better than to upset a tired man, even one as patient and good-natured as Arnold. Just because he was excellent at keeping his anger under control, it didn't mean that it didn't boil in his blood at all. Without objection but with an obnoxious sigh, Helga followed the boy out of his room and down the stairs.

Once the two of them reached the last step on the stoop, Arnold said, "You surprised me back there."

"How?" Helga asked, worried. She'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but apparently, he did, and he was going to question her about it. That was the only remotely dangerous thing about the guy--his curiosity.

"When everyone was making fun of Rhonda about Curly's eternal crush on her, you didn't get into the joke at all, not even a little."

"So? Maybe I just didn't find it as funny as it was back in fourth grade," she told him sternly, hoping that her answer would suffice, but he pressed on.

"That was the first time I didn't hear you laugh at that subject, though."

"The last time we talked about it was before he left."

"Still, it was pretty surprising."

"Why?" she asked, annoyed.

Arnold shrugged. "It sounded more serious than you just not finding it funny."

"What are you talking about?" she hissed.

"It seemed to me like you were trying to defend him," Arnold told her, raising his eyebrows.

Helga swallowed. He had caught her, and she guessed that he knew it, because she didn't say anything in response right away. Before she could think of some excuse, he said, "It's no big deal. I was actually waiting for someone to say something like that for Curly's sake."

"Really?" she said, her voice spilling out in a softer tone than she wanted it to. Hardening, she continued, "What for?"

"Because I never really thought it was that funny, either."

"Seriously?" she said, almost disbelieving.

The boy shrugged and sighed, "No matter how ridiculously he handled it, Curly's feelings--or anyone's feelings, for that matter--should never be a joke. I'd like to think that everyone found the way he carried himself around Rhonda funny, not the fact that he really liked her."

Helga bit her lip. There were plenty of things she'd like to say in regards to that; plenty of things she wanted to agree with and point out, but she kept her mouth closed. They had reached her house anyway, so talking about it further seemed pointless.

"You really didn't have to--"

"It's okay," Arnold cut her off, but smiled.

"But--"

"I wanted to."

Helga felt her jaw drop, but her brain didn't send the message for her to close it fast enough. She was sure that there had never been in an instance where he _didn't_ want to walk her home when he did, but to hear him say it…

"Uh--well--thanks, Arnold," she managed to blurt, walking backwards up her front steps.

"Not a problem," he said sweetly. He stood on the porch and watched her unlock the door, but before she went inside, he said, "Helga--"

"Yeah?" she practically squeaked, whirling around to face him.

"Are you--well…in case your Thanksgiving doesn't go too well…"

Was he getting at what she hoped he was?

"What?"

"You know, if--if you need a place to--"

"What the crap are you _suggesting_, Arnoldo?" she snapped, but was grinning uncontrollably inside her mind.

"Well--just so you know--we keep an extra seat open at our dinner table, you know--in case," he finally informed her, winking, and before she could say anything back, he turned and walked away.

--

Thanksgiving of 2001 had probably been the worst Helga had ever been through. Miriam's mother was on her deathbed, Bob had thrown out his back again and was in the most terrible of moods, and Olga's flight had been canceled. When Miriam told her husband in the morning that she had to take a spur-of-the-moment road trip, he became furious and took it all out on Helga. The thirteen-year-old never forgot most of the horrible things he'd said to her about being nothing and never measuring up to what her sister was. Bob actually had it in him to tell his own daughter that she was a mistake; something her parents didn't expect and didn't particularly want, which caused her to run out of the house crying. The medication he'd been on probably was to blame for his outrageous behavior, but that realization couldn't erase the hurt that his words caused her.

She didn't know why, but Helga had the greatest urge to walk to The Sunset Arms. Something in her told her that simply walking past it would make her feel better, so she allowed her legs to continue in that direction. She barely made it past the fire escape when she heard the front door of the boarding house creak open and a mess of cats and dogs screeched and darted down the block.

"Helga?" Arnold had called to her. She whirled around and froze, staring at the handsome blond boy standing on the stoop. He was decked out in a black button-down shirt and khaki pants; the nicest she'd seen him dress in a while.

"Why are you out here?"

"What, am I not allowed to go for a walk?" she said, sneering.

"At dinnertime on Thanksgiving?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"What's your point?" she said after a moment of stuttering. There was no way she could make an excuse for herself.

"Do you wanna come in?" he asked, his look of concern disappearing. It was replaced with a warm, inviting smile that was difficult not to grin back at, but somehow Helga managed to keep the scowl plastered to her face.

"Come in?" she repeated. "Aren't you in the middle of--"

"Mr. Smith moved out, so there's an extra seat," he explained.

"But wasn't he the guy that never--"

"We always left a seat open at the table for him anyway, but come on."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Arnold," she said slowly, but walked towards the stop anyway. She knew that no matter what she said, Arnold would somehow persuade her to do what he suggested.

"Why not? No one's gonna mind, just come join us--Grandma's almost done cooking."

"You're sure it's okay…?" she said, unaware that she was allowing him to see vulnerability in her eyes as she walked to his side.

"I'm positive, Helga," he said soothingly, placing a hand on her arm. A year later, Helga wondered if he'd noticed how dark of a red her cheeks blushed.

--

_November 25__th__, 2002_

_Grandma thinks today's the fourth of July. I think this might be the seventh year she's confused the holidays, but I told myself I'd stop keeping track after I turned twelve. Instead of cooking turkey, she's grilling hot dogs and hamburgers on the roof, even though it's two degrees outside. Hopefully it won't snow. _

_Curly's coming home in a few days. I had everyone over last night to talk and hangout before they all left for the holiday, and of course that subject came up. I felt really bad when everyone starting laughing at Rhonda about him, though. I did too, but I was more laughing at how funny he used to be about it. I don't think anyone has ever stopped to realize that he actually had feelings for her--except, surprisingly, Helga. I didn't expect her to defend him like that. I walked her home too, in hopes of figuring out why she did it, but of course, I couldn't get an answer--not the real one, anyway. It couldn't be just because she was tired of hearing the joke; no one's said much about it since Curly left. Since he's coming back, though, maybe it'll be a hot topic again. I just wanna know why it suddenly bothered Helga that people were teasing Curly about liking Rhonda--it's wrong, of course, to think someone's feelings are humorous, but I was just amazed that she of all people showed sensitivity towards the subject. I don't know. I really shouldn't think about it too much, I mean, it's Helga Pataki. Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever understand her. I wish I knew why I wanted to, though. Part of me hopes that she'll be outside the boarding house today, just walking past without anywhere to go for dinner, like last year._

--

"Hey, Arnold, what brings you down here?"

Arnold had wandered into his grandfather's "secret" bathroom, the really polished one in the basement with pink wallpaper.

"I just thought I'd ask you something," Arnold said slowly, sitting on top of the counter by the sink.

"Go ahead, Short Man," he told him. Even though his grandson had grown considerably taller over the years, he never stopped using that nickname with him.

"Well--remember last year, when one of my--friends came in to join us for dinner on Thanksgiving?"

"Ah yeah, the skinny one with the pigtails and pink jacket, right?"

"Yeah, that one, she--"

"Never grew out of those, did she?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow and told him, "Well, she still wears pink from time to time, but she hardly ever wears her hair in pigtails anymore."

Grandpa Phil sighed. "What a shame, it was so cute."

Pausing, Arnold gave his grandfather an odd look, but continued, "Anyway, uh--I just--I wondered, do you think she'll wind up coming here again?"

Phil scratched his chin and shrugged. "Do you want her to wind up having dinner with us again?"

This question hit Arnold unexpectedly hard, especially since he forgot to ask it himself before he came downstairs to discuss anything with Grandpa, but he said, "I--I'm not sure, I mean, I liked having her here, it was--"

"Oh, I liked it too, especially when she tripped Kokoshka and sent him flying into the grill, that was such a golden moment--"

"Grandpa," Arnold scolded him, "that was an accident, and you know it."

"It sure was funny though," Grandpa laughed, and then said, "Anyway, sorry, Short Man, what were you saying?"

"I said I liked having her here, but…something about it bugged me."

"Mmm, yeah, what was that?"

"Well--" Arnold rubbed his arm, a signal to the fact that he wasn't quite sure how to say something. "I don't know if you know, but her family is pretty uh--pretty--"

"Awful," Grandpa finished. Arnold could tell that he was thinking of Helga's father, Big Bob.

"Well, yeah, and she doesn't--she gets--at home, she's like--"

"Neglected," Grandpa finished again, and nodded for Arnold to continue.

"Yeah, pretty much, I mean--her mom's nice and all, but she's…And her dad is--"

"A monstrous and materialistic beast of a man who doesn't care about anything but his precious, perfect college graduate of a daughter and his beeper emporium," Grandpa said viciously, explaining Bob Pataki's character better and more harshly than Arnold ever did.

"Basically," Arnold admitted. "And I just--"

"You feel bad for the girl and you liked having her here because you knew you were helping her and showing her the compassion she's been lacking all her life."

Arnold looked hard at his Grandpa as he finished his sentence. He'd been right; he felt complete when he did something to help someone out…but why was he so set on making life so much better for _Helga_?

--

He had to call her. He convinced himself that he was simply worried about her being caught up in some sort of family catastrophe, but deep in his heart, it was beyond that. He just couldn't figure out what it was.

After three rings, she picked up. "Why are you calling on a holiday, Arnoldo?"

"Sorry, Helga, I--I was just--did I interrupt your--"

"No dinner to interrupt, Football Head. Miriam and Bob left three hours ago to get Olga from the airport."

"You're by yourself? On--"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm by myself. Why, are you shocked?"

"No, it's just--I mean--listen, Helga, would you mind if I came over there? You know, to--keep you company while you wait for them to get back?"

There were several minutes of silence from her end of the line. Arnold guessed that she was taken aback by his seemingly odd suggestion, so he said, "Never mind, I shouldn't have--"

"If you _really_ want to, Arnoldo, I guess you could stop over for a while, but don't _ever_ invite yourself over here on a freakin' _holiday_ ever again!"

And she hung up.

--

"He _came_ to your _house_?"

"Did I stutter?"

"But you guys were like--_alone_?"

"_Yes_ Curly, Arnold just came to my house and we were _alone_!"

It was probably the hundredth time Helga had talked on the phone with Curly since he left. No one really knew that they talked relatively often; Helga supposed people would find it weird, but she didn't; not after they found so much in common.

Back in sixth grade, there was a rainy night when Helga was sitting in the back of Bigal's Café writing when Curly burst into the place, sobbing like a little girl. Normally, Helga would have steered clear of someone who was in such a state, but the poor boy looked formidable. Before she could debate in her mind whether or not to comfort him, he noticed her and grabbed her, sobbing, begging to lean on her shoulder. Even if she didn't want to help him, she didn't have much choice. Within minutes, Curly Gammelthorpe practically vomited his secrets about being hopelessly obsessed with Rhonda. The consoling small-talk that Helga made slowly turned into an exchange of tragic romantic love stories, and ever since then, the two of them relied on each other for emotional support.

"Did you--you know…_do_ anything?" Curly asked, lowering his voice and sounding extremely excited.

Blushing madly at the thought, Helga spurted, "NO CURLY, we didn't!"

Familiar maniacal laughter exploded on the other end of the phone line. If one thing remained the same about Curly, it was definitely the way he laughed. "So what _did_ you do, then? Did you show him your shrine? Read him some poetry?"

Helga's face was nearly the same color as the roses that served as décor for the dining table. "NO, we mostly just--sat in the trophy room and just--talked."

Curly's voice lost its light as he groaned, "The _trophy_ room? Of all the rooms in your house that you could have sat alone with Arnold, you chose _that_ one? Olga's _palace_?"

"Criminey, it wasn't _my_ idea, he wanted to see it!" Helga shouted into the receiver.

"What the crap for?" Curly said back.

"The hell do I know!" she snapped, collapsing onto the dining table and nearly knocking over the vase of roses. "He said he wasn't too impressed though, so I guess that's a plus…"

"Wasn't impressed?" Curly repeated.

"That's what I said, Curly."

"What did you guys talk about, anyway?"

Helga sighed and smiled to herself as she recounted the evening to Curly. Arnold had rang her doorbell at dusk, and asked again if she didn't mind him being there; the two of them made small talk in the foyer until they stumbled onto the subject of the previous year's Thanksgiving holiday.

"Then what?" Curly asked, impatient.

Arnold had asked her about how her family was, and she explained impatiently that they had gone to pick up Olga from the airport. When Arnold told her it shouldn't have taken so long to get someone from an arriving flight, she scowled and guessed aloud that they had probably gallivanted off to some fancy restaurant for dinner. The boy told her that it was very rude of them to leave her out like that, but she blew off his comment and asked him if he'd like anything to drink.

"And that was when he asked to see the trophy room," Helga said, exasperated.

"Didn't you ask _why_?"

"Doi!"

"Well?"

"He told me he was curious as to what it looked like," Helga muttered.

"And after you guys were done in there…" Curly pressed, anxious.

Helga sighed, remembering what Arnold said: "_I guess she was pretty successful--but that's not what should really matter in a person_."

"And what did you say to that?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"What was I _supposed_ to say to that, genius?"

"You could have agreed or something!"

"I was a little busy focusing on the fact that he wasn't impressed with Olga's perfection," Helga said through gritted teeth. Curly knew how much that must have meant for her to hear Arnold say that.

"It takes more than intelligence and good looks to impress that kid."

There was a moment of silence on both ends, until Helga broke it. "Curly…"

"Yeah, Helga?"

"Do you think _I_ ever impressed Arnold?"

Another moment of silence. It probably only lasted a couple of seconds, but to Helga it seemed like hours until Curly gave his answer.

"Yes. You did."

"How?" she questioned, "When?"

"You know," he teased, but sounding assuring.

"_Curly_!"

"Come on, you can't tell me you don't know."

"I _don't_, now come on, tell me--"

"I gotta go, Helga, listen, I'll see you when we get back to school. Bye!"

Before she could try again to persuade him, he'd hung up.

--

It was about eight in the evening when Arnold left Helga's house. He figured he'd already missed dinner at the boarding house, so he didn't rush himself walking home. In fact, the time he spent with her had caused a lot of fog in his brain, so he found it best to make his way to the river dock and gaze at whatever stars he could see. The breeze was fresh and the sky was crystal clear by the time he reached it, and he sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the boardwalk. As he inhaled deeply, a voice rang out of nowhere.

"Beautiful sky, isn't it?"

Alarmed, Arnold practically leaped out of his position, but regained composure after he realized that it was a perfectly sweet-looking older woman. Something about her short, brown hair and oval face was extremely familiar, but he couldn't recognize her voice.

"Oh--uh--yeah, it is, uh--"

"Susan, nice to meet you--er--" she held out her hand, and he took it, smiling as he gave it a shake.

"Arnold."

Susan's eyes lit up and her mouth curved into a toothy smile. "Lovely name. What are you doing out here on Thanksgiving evening, Arnold?"

"I was at a friend's, but I decided to stop here before I went home. I haven't come out to look at the stars since it started getting cold."

"It's been quite chilly lately," she agreed. "You stayed at a friend's on a holiday?"

"She'd been alone at her house all day, so I thought I might give her some company. No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

"Too right you are," Susan said, her smile unfading. "That's very sweet of you to do that for her. It was a _she_ you visited, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Arnold confirmed. This woman seemed oddly interested in the subject, but he figured that she must have been harmless. "Are you alone too, today?"

"Oh, no," Susan told him, sitting next to him on the boardwalk. This had been an odd action, considering the suit she was wearing, but she didn't seem to care about getting it dirty. "I was with my mother and sister. She spent most of dinner rubbing in the fact that she's engaged before I am, but I kept in mind the fact that I have a career going for me, so I didn't let my temper get the best of me."

Arnold laughed at this lightly, and then said seriously, "I wish Helga wasn't like that."

"What's that?"

Arnold bit his lip; that comment was supposed to stay inside his head, but he though that he'd just lightly explain. "The friend I saw tonight--she has a sister who has--well--_everything_ going for her, and she's pretty upset because…"

"Nothing seems to ever work out in her favor," Susan finished for him.

"Yeah, that's just how it is," Arnold said. "And she doesn't seem to…I don't know, it's like--I feel like she just…"

"She can't see the good in herself," Susan finished for him again. Arnold thought her saw her mouth twitch into a smile.

"Yeah, basically," he sighed, hopelessly.

"Well, Arnold," she started, rising up from her spot on the boardwalk, "do you want to help her?"

"Well, yeah," he answered as if he were being asked a stupid question. "Yeah, I do," he added more seriously.

"Then, show her."

"What?"

"Help her to see the good in herself."

Arnold furrowed his brow. "…How do I _do_ that, Susan?"

The woman grinned and turned on her heel, but called over her shoulder, "You'll know…when it's time."

--

**Author Notes** on--

Sid and Curly's Friendship: Throughout the series, I'm pretty sure everyone assumed that Sid and Stinky were BFF's (especially after watching the HA! movie again; the whole shpeel about their handprints in the sidewalk. I almost felt guilty writing that bit about how they were "practically living at each other's houses"), but I wanted to somewhat reinforce the message of the cliché "nothing stays the same when you get older." In this particular fic, Stinky and Sid are still very close, but somehow I figured that they way I used Sid and Curly's personalities, I would make them really special friends. Don't worry, no one replaced anyone ;

Helga and Curly's Friendship: I don't think anyone ever paid any mind to the possibility of Curly feeling the same way about Rhonda that Helga feels about Arnold, so I thought I'd bring the two of them together to depend on each other for support. Of course, Phoebe's there to listen to Helga, but she doesn't really understand, and no one takes poor Curly seriously, so who better to lean on than someone who's going through what you are yourself? Don't get me wrong, I didn't make them anything close BFF's, that's not my goal. The only big thing that makes them tolerate each other is how much they have in common. Helga always thought he was a deluded freak anyway, so I didn't want to be too out-of-character with this seemingly random friendship.

Arnold's concern for Helga: At this point in the fic, I want to make it clear that Arnold is simply getting confused; he's on the bridge between having feelings for Helga and just wanting to help her out. It's all in his character; making a difference in someone's life is his purpose. He knows that it's hard for her, so her needs should be met. It's simply his compassion taking over at this point, but he's curious. Very curious.


	7. I Kissed A Girl, Just to Try It

**Beforehand**--thank you, thank you, thank you to the amazing finn for that beautiful review! :D you honestly don't have the slightest idea how happy I am because of that, it was really, really uplifting to read, especially since I didn't know if I was doing a nice job or not. I'm so very happy that you're into it and I hope more people like it as much as you seem to :) I'll post two chapters today, but that'll be it for just a while--I need to get started on Part 2 of freshman year right away. I'm so much more excited about this fic now and I really want to make it wonderful. Again, thank you :)

**Disclaimer**, Again: Bartlett's toys; I'm merely playing with them.

**Chapter 7**: I Kissed A Girl, Just to Try It

Curly's return had caused a remarkable commotion amongst the ninth graders at Hillwood High. Once Rhonda told her inner circle, which included Lila, everyone was aware that he was back and twisted the stories of his preceding living conditions. From first period all the way to their lunch time, Helga had heard about seven different rumors about her friend from at least twelve cliques.

"I have to give props to whoever made up the one about me having a threesome in my old principal's office," Curly chuckled. It was admirable, the way he simply laughed off all of the imagined realities. Nothing seemed to bother him very much; not little things, anyway.

"No sense getting mad, right? I mean, I know it's all made up, and so do you guys, so it doesn't really matter."

Helga got comfortable in her seat and smiled weakly at Curly, watching as he practically shoved a cucumber sandwich down his throat.

"So what _did_ happen while you were over there?" Gerald asked him curiously.

"Eh, nothing too awesome. It was really boring. The _people_ were really boring."

"So who did you hang out with there?"

"Hardly anyone. Well, no, there was this one girl, but--"

"What happened with her?"

"Nothing really, I wasn't interested in her that way, but she was fun to talk to."

"Dang…Is your aunt really as crazy as they say?"

"She calmed down quite a bit after I started school there, so nah, she's fine."

Clearly disappointed, Gerald stopped throwing questions at him and returned to his salad, allowing the other members of the group to grill him.

"Glad to be back?" Arnold finally asked between sips of his soda.

"Definitely," Curly exhaled obnoxiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. That was all that looked the same about Curly; he was nearly as tall as Stinky and his dark locks were swept to the right side of his face. With his sharper features and inviting smile, the Gammelthorpe boy had developed into a really handsome guy. All of the girls noticed, Helga being the first to compliment him, but the one who was especially taken aback was the only girl he wanted to notice him.

"Must be nice to parade around all day with girls telling how great you look," Sid sighed, playing with the cap on his soda can.

"It'll die down once they get used to having me around again," Curly shrugged.

"I wish Rhonda made that face every time she looked at you," Helga laughed, taking apart her Oreos. "That was pretty priceless."

"I don't think she believed it was you," Sid elbowed Curly in the ribs.

"I couldn't believe she _hugged_ me," Curly said aloud, blushing furiously. "That was the first time in a million years that she _willingly_ touched me."

"Hopefully won't be the last," Helga said so that only he could hear, winked, but then her face fell. Curly raised an eyebrow at her sudden worried look, but it turned smug just as he caught it. "Speak of the devil."

A tall, slender, irresistibly pretty girl with dark hair waving about her shoulders was making her way over to Helga's table. It might have been her imagination, but the blond could swear that people parted to clear a path wherever Rhonda Wellington Lloyd carried her legs. Heads turned as she walked past; upperclassmen boys often mistook the freshman for a junior or senior, a common misconception. Most were fooled by her exotic makeup, designer garments, and seemingly "perfect" body. The attention made her even haughtier than she had been in her younger years, but no one could deny that she was ridiculously gorgeous. She approached the table casually, setting her right knee on a seat right next to Curly and leaning with her hands on the table, facing Helga.

"Busy tomorrow night?" she asked, directing the question at Helga but speaking loudly enough so that the surrounding boys could hear.

"Depends, Princess (it was originally meant as an insult, but nowadays she threw it at Rhonda as a term of endearment)," Helga began to answer, "what's going on?"

"I was thinking of having a sort of--you know, Ladies' Night at my place," she informed her, lowering her voice, but not by much. She leaned farther over the table so that her face was merely inches away from her friend's. "That is, if you're up for it."

The blond cocked her head to the side to sweep her bangs out of her eyes. Inconspicuously, she winked at Curly and bent her head farther upward. "Fine. I'll be there."

Grinning, Rhonda leaned away from the table and said, "Six o' clock. Don't be late." There was a sway in her hips as she exited that Helga never noticed before.

"What was that lesbian-ish moment about?" Gerald cracked at Helga, talking with his straw sticking out of the side of his mouth.

"It wasn't _lesbian-ish_, Geraldo," Helga snapped. "And what she said was none of your beeswax."

Arnold sniggered. Personally, he found it strangely cute, the way that Helga put her face surprisingly close to Rhonda's whenever they had to say something important to each other. Curly, on the other hand, looked incredulous. Helga noticed his expression, because she irritably blurted, "What's _your_ issue?"

"You _always_ talk to her like that?"

Huffing, Helga groaned, "What's the big deal?"

"Helga, you looked like you were gonna--"

"I know what it _looked_ like, genius, point is--"

"Why are you even arguing about that?" Arnold butt in, but spoke politely. "It's just a little thing that they do, you know, like how me and Gerald have the handshake."

"No, _not_ like the handshake," Gerald piped up, casting a quizzical look at Arnold.

"Did you ever kiss her?" Curly asked Helga airily, completely frozen in his seat.

For a moment, Helga thought she was going to choke on her pretzel. Arnold had been sitting next to her so that when she began to make sputtering noises, he patted her on the back hard enough to cause her to spit it back out.

"KISS RHONDA?" the blond managed to exhale after stealing a sip of Gerald's soda.

"_Kiss_ Rhonda?" Gerald repeated slowly, looking upward, obviously trying to picture it in his mind.

"Yeah! Did you?"

"Why would you ask that, Curly?" Arnold questioned calmly, still patting Helga lightly on her back. Her face was beet red, but not from having choked.

"Because it would be AMAZING to watch," Gerald piped up again, giving Curly an excited look and then a high-five.

"Yeah, almost as amazing as watching _you_ kiss _Arnold_," Helga said sarcastically, smirking.

Curly and Arnold exchanged disgusted expressions, and then the darker-haired boy said, "Helga, at that little rendezvous tomorrow--"

Helga's eyes widened and then narrowed as she snapped, "_Oh_ no, Curly--"

"Helga, you don't even--"

"_Oh_ yes I do, and you could totally forget about it!"

"But Helga--"

"NO, Curly--"

"Just one little--"

"_Thaddeus Gammelthorpe_," Helga said more calmly but through gritted teeth, "there's no way in _hell_ that I'm going to willingly swap spit with Rhonda Wellington Lloyd."

Gerald laughed out loud at Helga's wording, but Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes. "Curly, what makes you think Rhonda will be up for it?"

Curly waved his hand in the air and said, "She's a typical teenage girl, it's not gonna take much to convince her to do something a little outrageous."

"It might not for her, but it'll cost you for _me_," Helga hissed, folding her arms.

"We'll talk business later, but first we gotta figure out how to do this," Curly said, conniving.

Helga sighed and leaned her cheek into her hand with her elbow on the table, uninterested in his plan, but listened to it anyway.

"What you should do…" Curly began, scratching his chin. "Get someone to start a game of Truth or Dare, and you know--just roll with it."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Great job, _genius_, but how are you gonna see it?"

"Party starts at what time?" Curly asked.

"Six."

"Then start playing at around eight," Curly suggested, then went on, "Say that you want some moonlight in there and open the curtains of her window so we can sneak over and peek," he finished devilishly.

"Who's _we_?" Helga demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Curly elbowed Gerald, who grinned, and shot a look at Arnold, but the blond shook his head vigorously.

"No, no way, I'm not taking part in your shenanigans, Curly, it's way too early in the game for that."

Curly's eyes widened. "Aw, come on Arnold! Don't be a killjoy, have some fun in your life!"

"I don't wanna get involved in a bet--"

"Nobody said anything about a bet!"

"_Yet_," Helga corrected him.

"Curly, really, I don't want to go."

"Come on Arnold, it's not that bad," Gerald told him casually. "It's not like we never spied on a girl's party before."

Arnold rolled his eyes.

"If I do this for you," Helga began, turning the subject to her, "what do I get in return?"

"What are you doing on Friday?"

Helga's temper flared at this seemingly random question. "_What_?"

"Are you busy Friday?"

"_No_, but what's--"

"Rhonda agreed to go out for a movie and ice cream that night. You can join us and bring--say, Arnold--with you. My treat."

Helga felt her organs freeze over at the thought of spending an evening with Arnold, even if other people were there. It would be like it always had been when they all hung out together, only Curly was suggesting a real, _actual_ double date.

"Well, I'm free Friday night," Arnold shrugged, looking from Curly to Helga. He obviously thought nothing of it. "Sounds nice to me, if Helga thinks it's an appropriate reward for kissing Rhonda."

In her head, Helga wanted to jump up and kiss Curly's forehead for suggesting such a brilliant idea, and kiss Arnold for agreeing to it and even sounding happy about doing it, but she knew she couldn't, so she stammered at first, thinking of a way to agree grudgingly.

"Uh--I--well, _fine_ Curly, but you _better_ be serious about paying or else I'm _not_ going, and FYI, that idea is _hardly_ enough reward for kissing Rhonda, if I even end up _doing_ it, but FINE. It's a _deal_."

The three of them shook on it.

--

The Lloyds worked from Wednesday afternoon until Thursday night, so Rhonda often invited her girlfriends to sleepover. She never admitted it, but Helga knew she hated being alone, so she would stay with her almost every week. Usually it was only her and Nadine that stayed, but that night, all of the girls were able to make it. The lot of them were crowded in Rhonda's room, all decked out in their pajamas and nightclothes, laughing at whatever Rhonda had to say.

"So then he goes," Rhonda continued, after the girls had their laugh, "out to walk to the bus and trips over the curb. Smooth, right?"

Lila was the only one who didn't laugh at the story of how Curly had asked Rhonda on a date. Instead, she breathed, "Oh Rhonda, he's just ever so cute, I can't believe you'd laugh at him getting hurt!"

"He didn't get hurt," Helga insisted, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "He just had a Eugene moment."

Sheena laughed especially hard at the friendly crack on her boyfriend, and Lila went on, "But you said yes to him, didn't you?"

Rhonda looked incredulously at the redhead and snapped, "Of course I did, Lila, why wouldn't I? I mean, did you _look_ at him when he walked into those doors? _Total_ hottie."

"He's extremely cute," Nadine said simply, but grinned.

"He really grew up," Sheena agreed, nodding.

"He's probably the hottest guy in our graduating class, next to Sid," Katrinka told the girls.

"_Sid_?" Sheena squealed, appalled.

"Sid's really hot," Nadine squeaked.

"I never really thought so," Sheena admitted unblushingly, shifting her eyes.

"Are you _blind_, Sheena?" Rhonda asked sarcastically. "Sid's gorgeous."

"Eh…"

"Well look at _your_ boyfriend, Sheena," Rhonda grunted. "Not exactly Abercrombie and Fitch material."

"Neither is Sid!" she argued.

"Not the point!"

"You know who _is_ fit for A&F, though?" Nadine started.

"Who?" Sheena asked eagerly.

"Arnold," Nadine said dreamily, poking her pudding cup with a spoon. The rest of the girls exploded into sighs and giggles. Helga tried her best to hide her smile, but couldn't help herself. Nobody seemed to notice, though, to her delight.

"He's gorgeous," Katrinka sighed. "Even with that weird shaped head of his, he's easily the hottest thing in Hillwood."

"Personally I always was especially attracted to Gerald," Phoebe squeaked, and the girls laughed at her predictability, but she continued, "but you're right, Arnold is exceptionally good-looking."

"His personality is a big reason why he's ever so attractive," Lila said aloud. "Don't you think so, Helga?"

Perking her head up, Helga's face instantly lost the smile and turned extremely red. "W-what?"

"Don't you think Arnold's cute?" she asked casually, half-smirking. _That bitch is putting me on the spot_, Helga thought as Lila winked at her.

"Uh--well--"

"Didn't you kiss him, like, a million years ago?" Nadine wondered.

"Oh that's right! In the school play!" Katrinka said, remembering their fourth grade rendition of Romeo and Juliet.

"That wasn't the only time," Phoebe murmured, figuring no one would hear her, but they did.

"You kissed him more than _once_?" Sheena exploded, amazed.

"I didn't say that!" Helga nearly shouted, looking angrily at Phoebe, who couldn't help but giggle.

"What was it like?" Nadine inquired.

"Is he good?" Katrinka asked.

"Spill it, Helga," Rhonda demanded, scooting over so that she was closer to her.

Nervous, Helga glanced at the clock hanging above their heads. It was nearly eight. Curly and the boys surely were outside the window, waiting for the curtains to open. Stumbling as she got up, Helga muttered, "Uh--just a second, I need to uh--don't you guys want some n-natural light in here? I mean the lamp is good, but uh--it couldn't hurt to see the moon, could it?"

"No problem, Helga," Rhonda said, clearly suspicious, but only because of the subject they were discussing. "Tell us about Arnold, already."

"How about uh--" Helga stammered as she drew back the curtains. Sure enough, she could vaguely make out Curly's figure in the dark, and knew that he was watching. "Let's play Truth or Dare, huh? Good uh--good choice of game for a sleepover, right?"

"That suggestion seems ever so random, Helga," Lila said impatiently. "I was certain that you were going to tell us about--"

"Well duh," Nadine started, "We can just _dare_ her to tell us."

The girls agreed excitedly and Nadine said, "Helga, I dare you to tell us about the kiss."

This was more than she'd bargained for, but not totally unexpected. "Well--uh, guys, it--it was a really long time ago and--" Helga stammered, never having felt so uncomfortable in a long time. Not even Phoebe knew the details; Helga kept them all to herself throughout the years.

"Come on, Helga, don't do that to us!" Katrinka whined.

"Just tell us what you remember," Sheena said reassuringly.

Figuring she could just tell them about the play, Helga started, "Well, it was just a play, so it's not like it was some--it was like--it was sad, kinda, because you know, Romeo died and everything--"

"How did it _feel_?" Nadine demanded, interested.

Helga felt her face getting hot as she tried to explain, "Well, it was nice, I guess, I mean, he couldn't kiss me back since he had to pretend he was _dead_--"

"Were his lips soft?"

"Did he move at all?"

"Do you think he would have kissed back if he could?"

These questions ran across Helga's mind as she remembered the moment distinctly, and all she could do out loud was stammer and stumble over words.

"I think that if you were really good," Rhonda began, mocking her, "he would have kissed back, regardless of whether or not he was acting dead."

Helga's mind stopped working suddenly as she took in this insult. "What are you trying to say, Rhonda?"

"I'm saying you probably sucked at kissing."

"She was only nine when it happened, Rhonda," Phoebe explained in Helga's defense. "Surely nobody that young was going to be a good kisser."

"She probably never changed," Rhonda said, challenging Helga. "What do _you_ know, Princess? You weren't Arnold at the time!"

"Yeah Rhonda," Nadine told her, "you can't really judge if you didn't kiss her."

"Why don't we fix that?"

The room fell dead quiet. Every pair of eyes glued themselves to Helga as she continued courageously, "You heard me, Rhonda. Let's fix that."

Rhonda raised her eyebrows and asked slowly, "What do you mean?"

"You know. I dare you to kiss me." Helga said bravely, completely aware that the three impatient boys were boring their eyes into the window expectantly. She couldn't keep them waiting too long, and besides, an evening with Arnold was part of the deal, so she forced herself to put the pressure on.

Several of the girls gasped in horror and excitement.

"Helga G. Pataki," Rhonda began, eyes wide with terror. "I _cannot_ believe what I'm hearing."

"This is ever so unbelievable, Helga," Lila said nervously, sounding a bit disgusted.

"You're actually willing to _kiss_ another girl?" Katrinka said, horrified.

Nadine seemed to be the only one who was particularly unshaken by the idea because she said, "It's just a dare you guys. Besides, a lot of older girls do it all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, it's just a dare, now do it, unless you're chicken," Helga said plainly, trying to sound as if the idea didn't bother her at all. It did, but she couldn't let it show. Not when she brought up the idea; not when she had Arnold watching in the window. She wondered what was running through his mind just then as she pressured Rhonda.

"I am _not_ chicken," Rhonda said fiercely.

"Then prove it!" Helga told her impatiently. She really wanted to just get it over with; she figured the boys were practically writhing in suspense. "Just kiss me."

It was one of the very few times that Helga had seen fear in Rhonda's eyes. Admittedly, she was equally as uncomfortable as the dark-haired girl, but once their lips met, the nerves melted. Making believe it was Arnold that she was kissing made her more laid-back, and without thinking, she slid her tongue over Rhonda's bottom lip. The cherry flavor in her chapstick was frighteningly satisfactory, but she broke away right after it sunk in.

They broke apart from each other, breathless, and the room was silent; the girls gazed at Rhonda, awaiting a verbal reaction to go with her ghostly white face.

"Uh--wow, Helga," Rhonda breathed, giving a nervous laugh. "I uh--I was definitely wrong. You're uh--you're really good."

Relaxed and vindicated, Helga nodded and smirked, not expecting the sentence she heard right after Rhonda closed her mouth.

"I'm ever so certain that I'd like to try."

--

"…So you kissed Lila."

Helga hadn't moved an inch from her position on the lounge chair since the session began. Dr. Bliss had listened intently to the events of her patient's life during the past few days, and she was quite overwhelmed.

"I don't know _why _I let myself go with it, but I did," Helga told her, letting it show that she was disgusted with herself.

"You just did it? Did someone dare you to?"

"Well, after she said she wanted to try, I flipped out and told her that there was no way I'd put my face within ten feet of hers, but all the girls dared me to do it."

"So you did it after they dared you."

"No, I protested more until Rhonda threatened to call Curly and tell him that I whisper his name when I masturbate."

"And _then_ you kissed Lila."

Helga sighed exasperatedly and then finally groaned. "Yeah."

"How did you feel, kissing someone that you really don't like at all?"

"It was really _awkward_," Helga told her, wide-eyed. "I mean, she wasn't too bad at it--she could have used a little less tongue--but it was so weird. I mean, I _hate_ Lila, and I couldn't put that aside when I kissed her. I was kind of aggressive, I guess. But it was over within a few seconds, so I was okay."

"What happened afterward?"

"She told me I was good and then her and Rhonda kissed."

"And then what happened?"

"We talked a little more about girls kissing girls and went to sleep."

"And that was it?"

"Yeah. We woke up and went to school like nothing happened in the morning."

"But you said the boys were in on it, too."

"Yeah, they were staring outside the window."

Dr. Bliss choked on her sip of coffee.

"I made them promise not to tell anyone--well, Arnold and Gerald swore they'd keep it a secret, but I knew Curly was gonna run his mouth off to other guys, so I threatened him with a knife and made him promise to zip his lips."

"Oh, well, that's…effective," Dr. Bliss sighed. She had given up in trying to cure Helga's violent tendencies years ago. "So then, how was the date yesterday?"

A small sigh escaped from Helga as she remembered the events of the previous evening. Lost in her daydreams, she was completely unaware that Dr. Bliss had questioned her.

"Helga? Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" Helga snapped her eyes fully open and shook her head.

"I asked you how the date was."

"Oh." Helga finally sat up and twiddled her thumbs, wondering aloud where she should start.

"From the moment you left your house."

"Okay, well, Arnold said he'd walk to my place to get me--he told me Curly was meeting us with Rhonda at the theater…"

--

"Hey Helga," Arnold had said, smiling at her as she walked down the steps. She was dressed simply with black slacks and a pink V-neck shirt, covering up with a black track jacket to keep warm. Her hair was in a half pony-tail, tied off with the pink ribbon she'd always held onto. That night was the first night she actually wore it in her hair instead of around her neck in over a year.

"Hey, Football Head," she greeted him simply, trying with difficulty not to scan his body up and down. The girls definitely weren't lying about how much potential Arnold had as a model. He wasn't very muscular, but he certainly wasn't a shrimp, and as Rhonda would say, he had serious style. As Helga began walking at his side, she couldn't help but inhale his dreamy, oceanic scent. She'd been trying to figure out what kind of cologne he wore for months.

"Does Rhonda _know_ we're coming?" Arnold asked her, worried. Rhonda had the tendency to throw a fit when she was hit with unexpected surprises.

"Yeah, I told her the night of the slumber party," Helga told him, hiding her nervousness with an attitude as per usual.

"Good--well, what are we seeing?"

"Curly wants to see _Night of the Living Dead_," Helga answered, groaning. "Oh…" Arnold sounded disappointed. "I kinda wanted to see _Criminal Masterminds 2_."

Helga perked up. "So did I."

Arnold had smiled weakly as they neared the movie theater. "Do you think Curly would mind if we just…saw a different movie?"

As they neared the ticket booth, Helga spotted Curly and Rhonda, looking extremely flirtatious as they laughed loudly and touched each other's arms and hands.

"Trust me, Arnoldo," Helga droned, "I don't think he's gonna mind."

--

"So you and Arnold saw a different movie?"

"That's right," Helga said, putting forth the effort into making it seem like it wasn't a big deal.

"That's pretty exciting, Helga," Dr. Bliss told her, grinning encouragingly.

"Yeah, I guess it was," Helga agreed, wording her feelings half-heartedly. Dr. Bliss had become used to that.

"Did anything happen in the theater?"

Frowning, Helga recounted that blissful hour and forty minutes. She and Arnold had been the only two in the theater. When she casually pointed that out, he jokingly said that it if they had planned on doing anything, it would have been very convenient. Of course, she had to tell him that he was out of his mind if he thought that she was going to do anything in that theater with him besides watch the movie, and he responded with his usual "whatever you say, Helga." There were a few moments where his hand brushed against hers, and she even hid her face in his shoulder at a particularly frightening scene, but that was really it.

"His hair smelled really nice," she threw in lightly, sighing, but then caught herself. "But nothing really happened."

"Did you get ice cream together?"

"Yeah, we did…"

--

_Criminal Masterminds 2_ had ended a few minutes earlier than _Night of the Living Dead_, so Helga and Arnold waited around for Curly and Rhonda to exit the theater. When they emerged from the doors, Curly had his arm swung around a giggling Rhonda. The girl's face was lit up like a Christmas tree; Helga had never seen her that happy before.

"You guys ready for Slawson's?" Curly asked them, jerking his head in the direction of the ice cream parlor.

Arnold and Helga both nodded and the four of them walked to Slawson's discussing the movies they'd just seen and laughing about poor special effects and cliché plotlines. Helga took special notice in the fact that Rhonda was tightly gripping Curly's hand, and to make friendly fun she whispered to Arnold, "Do you see that?"

Arnold grinned at her and nodded, happy to see that Curly seemed to finally be getting what he wanted.

At the parlor, Curly did most of the talking. Rhonda was asking him countless questions about the private school he had attended and Curly gave stories along with nearly every one of his answers. Arnold was following Curly's words relatively intently, laughing when appropriate and nodding his head to agree with certain things. Helga, however, was completely zoned out, paying attention solely to Arnold's mannerisms as he listened to Curly, who didn't mind that Helga wasn't apparently listening. As long as Rhonda paid him mind, he didn't care who heard him talk, which was very fortunate for the blond girl. She was able to study Arnold in peace, taking in the way his lips hugged his straw as he sipped his milkshake, and the way his nose turned up when he laughed.

--

"It's like music when he laughs," Helga sighed dreamily, forgetting that her psychiatrist was present as she recounted the events.

Dr. Bliss' smile faded a little, but shook her head as she then asked, "So what happened on the way home? Arnold walked you, didn't he?"

Helga shook her head, remembering that Dr. Bliss was in the room with her, and blushed as she answered, "Yeah, duh he walked me home, it's not like Curly was going to tear himself off of Rhonda and do it…"

--

"They seem pretty cozy," Arnold pointed out as they watched Curly and Rhonda walk in the opposite direction down the street.

"A blind man could tell you that," Helga huffed.

"I just hope Rhonda doesn't toy with him," Arnold said, sounding a little worried.

"Looks like she really likes him," Helga said confidently. "She wouldn't set herself out to hurt anyone on purpose."

Arnold sighed. "I suppose you're right, but--you know how much he likes _her_, I don't want him to get hurt."

"Sometimes you gotta just let someone make their own mistake," Helga told him knowingly, without attitude. "If it turns out that being with Rhonda _is_, he has to learn on his own."

The boy looked thoughtfully at her as they crossed an unoccupied road. "Helga."

"What?" she snapped, reverting back to her attitude.

"That was the most insightful thing I've heard you say in a while."

It happened every time he gave her any sort of compliment. Her mind would freeze, she'd stammer, and her temperature would climb several degrees higher, but after a few seconds, she would blurt out something rude. "Well, geez, Football Head, do you think I'm incapable of saying something outrageously intelligent?"

"I don't think that," Arnold said calmly (which usually upset her even more because he never reacted the way a "normal" person would), "I just think you keep a lot inside."

She crossed her arms and huffed. "What's wrong with _that_?"

"Nothing, I guess," Arnold said, thinking about it. "I mean, everyone's entitled to their secrets."

"You're damn right," Helga mumbled, feeling the cold metal of her locket inside of her bra.

"But it's okay to talk about things once in a while, you know," he added, glancing at her and then ahead of himself. They were nearing Helga's house.

"Maybe it is for _you_, Arnoldo, but some people can get along _fine_ without wearing their hearts on their sleeves," she hissed as they came closer to her stoop.

They stopped, and Arnold looked at her in the face. "I'm not telling you to display your emotions all the time, I'm just saying that it's okay to let people in sometimes."

"It's kind of hard to do when nobody _wants_ to get in," Helga told him fiercely, trying to keep her guard up, but Arnold went even further in his attempt to push it down.

"What makes you think that, Helga?" he asked softly, looking concerned. He even touched her arm lightly.

"I just _know_ it, okay? Geez, can you for once not try and pry into people's brains like this?"

That was a bit of a hit below the belt, and Helga didn't realize it until after she said it. Arnold gave an exhausted sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Helga, one day you're gonna realize that you need someone to talk to."

Helga swallowed hard, searching his face. The green in his eyes seemed to almost glow under the streetlight; the compassion was right there, swirled in their unnaturally beautiful hue.

Allowing herself to sound soft, she politely grunted, "I know, Arnold."

Almost smiling, he touched her arm. "It was a good time tonight."

His hand was still on her arm, causing her head to dizzy, but she managed to say, "Y-yeah, it was…really nice."

"I'll see you at the mall tomorrow, maybe?" he asked, finally removing his hand.

His action snapped her back to reality. "Huh?"

"Rhonda wanted us to go with her and the gang tomorrow afternoon, didn't you hear her?"

Shaking her head, Helga stammered, "Oh, uh--oh, yeah--I uh--I can't make it though, I have a--a uh--"

"It's okay Helga," Arnold told her softly, stepping closer to her. "I'll see you at school, then."

Unexpectedly and shockingly, Arnold tilted his head and lightly, gently kissed her cheek. Her entire body seemed to freeze while her insides felt like hot, molting lava. After he stepped away, he winked, said goodnight, and turned to walk away from her house, leaving her standing speechless at her stoop.

--

"He really gave you a _kiss_?"

"It was only the _cheek_, Doc! I mean, Criminey, you don't have to get all _excited_ like that--"

"You seemed far more excited about it than I was while you were explaining it, Helga."

Helga shot a dark look at her psychiatrist, but reverted back to her story. "It was so--random, though."

"Why do you think he did it?"

"I don't _know_, _that's_ what's driving me crazy!"

"Are you going to talk to him about it?"

Mockingly, Helga picked up a book and started talking to it. "Oh yeah, it'll be like this…'Hey Arnold, why the hell did you kiss me Saturday night, do you like me or something?' Yeah. That'll blow over well."

Dr. Bliss shrugged. "I don't see any harm in asking why he did it."

"You don't just ASK people why they do things like that!"

"And why not?"

"Because…" Helga stuck herself in thought. You can't ask someone why they did something like that because, well, the reason should already be obvious. When you care about someone, you show affection, whether it be a hug or a kiss or a simple touch on the arm. So was it that Arnold actually cared about her, possibly in the way that she'd always dreamed he would? No other reasoning made much sense.

--

**Author's Note**

--The seemingly random lesbian tendencies: So, _why_ are Helga and Rhonda "good" friends and _why_ are they making out? In their younger years, these two girls really didn't get along, but if you thought about it, they had a lot of personality traits in common (arrogance, impatience, headstrong, etc.), and I thought I'd make them realize that in their time in middle school and bring them into high school as relatively good friends. As far as the lesbian tendencies go, I thought I'd play with these two especially because they're the last two that I thought most would expect; plus, it makes it all the more interesting. But about Lila's sudden urge to kiss Helga...you'll understand in time. I can assure you, that was not an action of comic relief, but an important factor in the plot. In case you're worried, I won't pull the floor out from under your feet and be like OHSURPRISELILA'SGAY. It'll make sense as the story goes on. Promise.

--Arnold kissing Helga on the cheek: Again, all part of the ultimate plan...which is not totally worked out yet, but you will understand in time.


	8. It's All Fun and Games

**Beforehand**--I love this chapter; basically because I love winter, but more so because I love the precious moments that a snow day always seems to bring. Read on and you'll discover what I'm talking about ;) Also, if you're confused by the dated, italicized bodies of writing, that's Arnold writing in his journal. Enjoy--I'm gonna fix myself some hot cocoa...even though it's about 95 degrees outside...0.o

**Disclaimer**, just in case you forgot: These are Bartlett's toys, I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 8**: It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Gets Their Heart Broken

_December 7__th__, 2002_

_First snow of the season. Grandpa isn't awake yet, which is the only reason why I'm not out front shoveling the sidewalk, but it's really beautiful. No one is outside yet, so it looks like a big, pristine blanket of white. I hope there'll be enough time to go sledding and have snowball fights after I get finished shoveling--maybe I'll get lucky and Grandpa will just have Mr. Kokoshka shovel it for him. I hope it keeps snowing all month--I'd like another white Christmas._

_Speaking of which, it's really close. We go on break the 21__st__, and Rhonda's having a party the 23__rd__, so it's pretty exciting. Miss Hawkins held me and Helga overtime yesterday to tell us that she decided on a play for next semester--_My Best Friend's Wedding_ or something like that. I read the script, and it's about a girl and a guy who were friends for ten years but he's marrying someone else, so the girl tries to put a stop to it. It actually sounds really, really awesome, and Helga and I were chosen to be the leads. I don't think I'm too great, but maybe I can get Helga to rehearse with me and give me pointers. _

_Helga's been especially catty lately, and I have no idea why. Well, Lila has been trying to talk to her a lot ever since Rhonda had that sleepover, and I guess it's irritating her more than she'll let on, but she tends to take it out on me often. I keep trying and trying to keep my patience with her, but it's pretty much wearing thin. I know I can't be the problem, so why does she have to get so frustrated with _me_? I'm probably the only one who tolerates her attitude very well, other than Phoebe of course, but everyone else seems to have an easier time handling her. Do I have to get mean like Rhonda does, for example, in order to get her to chill out? I don't know. _

_Grandpa's knocking--I'd better go get the shovel…_

--

It felt like days that Arnold was out in front of the boarding house, shoveling snow off of the sidewalk. Gerald passed by a couple of times to ask if he was able to go sledding with the guys, but he had to reproachfully tell him he couldn't. It was around one o' clock that he finally was able to enjoy the wintry wonderland, but his friends weren't anywhere in sight. Sighing, Arnold tossed his shovel into the alleyway and sat on his stoop, gazing out ahead of him. It had been so long since he'd just sat on the front steps and let his mind wander; he'd forgotten how relaxing it was.

His first thought was surprisingly Rhonda's upcoming party. Surely it was going to be a blast; she was known for throwing the best shindigs the neighborhood had seen, but he was especially excited to see more of how she would interact with Curly. The two of them had been particularly cozy the past week or two; holding hands in the hallways and stealing kisses in stairwells. Curly was happier than Arnold had ever seen, and he couldn't help but feel a warm spot in his chest whenever he saw him with her. After all those years of carrying a torch for Rhonda, it seemed to Arnold that the boy was finally getting the only thing he asked for. Smiling to himself, Arnold's train of thought was interrupted by something icy and wet hit him in the shoulder.

"What the--"

Arnold sprang up and looked to his right, meeting eyes with Helga Pataki, who was bundled up in a black pea coat and gloves. A pink biretta sat atop her blond hair, which waved about her shoulders. She laughed almost maniacally and pointed to the spot where she'd pelted him with her snowball.

"Great, Helga, thanks for that," Arnold smirked, brushing the snow off of his jacket.

"First hit of the day, Football Head," she said after she rid herself of laughter. "Where the hell were _you_ all morning? You missed Eugene nearly breaking his arm down the hill behind Bigal's."

"I was shoveling the sidewalk, Helga," Arnold told her, almost impatiently, remembering that she'd been irritating him lately. "Why are you here by yourself?"

When she didn't answer right away, Arnold could infer that she didn't really have a reason, so he said, "Never mind. Where's everyone right now?"

"Getting hot chocolate at Bigal's," she replied coolly, covering up for her hesitation before.

"Well, shall we go?"

His eyes might have been playing tricks on him, but Arnold could have sworn that he saw the color in Helga's cheeks rise to crimson as she said, "Er--fine, but hurry up, _Arnoldo_."

When she turned her back to him, Arnold took the opportunity to hit her with a snowball of his own. She scowled at him, declaring loudly that she was going to make him pay for it, so he playfully hit her with another one and took off down the street in front her, laughing like a school boy. Thanks to those long legs of hers, Helga was relatively fast on her feet, having nearly caught up with him on Madison Avenue, but Arnold quickly turned on Old York Road to throw her off. As he ran to the hill behind Bigal's Café, he glanced over his shoulder to check if she was still running after him, but he didn't see her. Having stopped, Arnold took a minute to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees. He looked at the ground, noticing the tracks from the sleds that his friends must have ridden earlier. His eyes followed them down the hill. It seemed so very steep when he was in fourth grade, but looking at it as a high school freshman was a little disappointing.

It was a good thing, however, that the hill didn't seem very big anymore, because Arnold then heard an angry scream and felt something--or someone--crash into his back, sending him tumbling forward. Snow seeped into his jacket and hair as he rolled, entangled in Helga's body, all the way down the hill. In the first split second, he was scared, but when he realized it was Helga, he simply laughed the rest of the way down. By the time they'd reached the bottom, he found himself on top of her in the snow, breathless but still laughing uncontrollably. Surprisingly, so was she, until they met eyes.

"You got me," he told her between laughs.

"I uh--yeah, I guess I did," Helga agreed, her voice sounding velvety and smooth, matching the dream-like look on her face, but as soon as Arnold noticed it, it contorted into a familiar angry scowl.

"Well--just--get _off_ me, Arnoldo, or someone's gonna come out here and think we were _doing_ something," she snapped. Gripping his waist and hoisting him around, she attempted to push him sideways off of her, but she'd miraculously forgotten to let go and wound up on top of him instead.

Mocking her, Arnold said slyly from underneath her torso, "You might wanna get off of me, Helga. Someone's gonna think we were _doing_ something."

Since she was so close, Arnold saw Helga's face turn a deep red as she cursed and scrambled to her feet. She vigorously brushed the snow off of her coat, but a ton of it was melting in her hair. He didn't know why, but in order to get steady on his feet, he laid one hand on her shoulder for balance, holding it tightly as if he were on the edge of a canyon.

For a moment she stood there frozen, her eyes completely fixated on his face, but then she spoke, surprisingly without a dark tone.

"Arnold…"

"Yeah, Helga?" he asked eagerly, taking his hands away from her. He locked eyes with her, hoping to see _some_thing, some familiar glimmer of vulnerability to prove that he was right all along, but--

"Hey, Arnold!"

Gerald was standing at the top of the hill, leaning his arm on a sled. "Come up here already! We been waiting on you, man!"

A groan slurred out of Helga's mouth as she started trekking her way up the hill. Arnold came after her, saying her name at least three times before she whirled around to maliciously ask him what he wanted, but she slipped. Arnold caught her, but fell backwards, and they wound up where they were before; limbs tangled up together in the snow.

"Sorry," Arnold laughed. Laying next to her in the snow should have been something that bothered him, but he found himself almost liking it.

"What_ever_, Football Head, just help me up," Helga breathed, her face still slightly red as she gripped his arm. Together they managed to haul themselves to the top of the hill, where they met the rest of the gang.

"Whoa, man, what were you doing, making snow angels?" Gerald asked, laughing at his friend.

"Not _exactly_, Tall Hair Boy," Helga droned, brushing herself off.

"You look like you definitely could use some hot chocolate," Sheena said to both Arnold and Helga. "Come on, let's go in, Rhonda and Curly already got their drinks, but we wanted to wait for you."

Sheena took Helga by the arm and led her inside while Gerald clapped Arnold on the shoulder and guided him in the door. The rest of the group followed, chattering loudly.

"We told Curly and Rhonda to grab us a table," Stinky began as they walked in the door, "but I reckon they went and snuck into that there corner by themselves."

Arnold averted his gaze to the far left corner of the café, where Rhonda and Curly sat across from each other at a very tiny table, holding hands and giggling with steaming cups of hot cocoa under their noses.

"We can go over there," Eugene suggested, pointing to a large table in the center of the café.

After everyone was seated and had taken their orders, the friends began to discuss the couple that had neglected them.

"They're _really_ into privacy, aren't they?" Nadine said, annoyed. Rhonda hadn't been giving her much attention at all ever since she started talking to Curly, which made her bitter.

"Are they going out?" Sheena questioned, laying her hand on Eugene's leg.

"Rhonda said she didn't want anything to be 'official' with him yet," Nadine began to explain.

"Why not?" Arnold asked curiously.

"She didn't give me a reason," Nadine shrugged, staring at the table.

"It's Rhonda we're talking about," Sid began, exasperated. "She doesn't _need_ a reason. Not for anything."

"It's been weeks and she ignores everything he says about going out for real," Eugene pointed out.

"I reckon she's just playing with him," Stinky told the group plainly, eyeing the couple darkly.

"Stinky, that's ever so mean of you to say," Lila told him, fiddling with her mittens.

"I'm just sayin', if she were serious about being with Curly, she would be with Curly all official-like, ya know?"

Arnold glanced at Helga, who was seated across from him. The two of them had discussed Arnold's worry for Curly's feelings, a while ago, and his fear seemed to be transforming into a reality.

"Give her a while," Nadine began. "I mean, Curly's only been back for a little bit--maybe she still needs to do some warming up."

"She looks pretty warm to me," Sid groaned, folding his arms.

"I'm just saying that Curly just got back. Maybe she likes him but wants to get re-acquainted better."

"I'm ever so sure that they're very well acquainted, Nadine," Lila told her knowingly, leaning slightly over the table to get a better look at the twosome.

Apparently having run out of defense mechanisms for her friend, Nadine sighed and rested her head on her palm.

"Poor twisted little freak," Helga murmured, rolling her eyes.

"Man, ya'll are so negative," Gerald piped up, throwing an arm about Phoebe's shoulders. She blushed. "Let 'em have a little fun."

"It's all fun and games until someone gets their heart broken, Gerald," Arnold told him seriously.

"That's a fact of life, my brother," Gerald said back. "Happens with every kind of relationship--you go in knowing that probably, one day, that other person is gonna break your heart. You just _hope_ they don't."

Eugene and Sheena exchanged anxious glances while the rest of the group looked somberly from Gerald to their menus or to the floor. Arnold looked helplessly at Curly and Rhonda as they continued to hold hands and giggle in their corner. _Maybe he's right_, Arnold thought to himself sadly, and was relieved to see that their waitress had appeared.

--

"Big weddings are so strange."

"You keep saying that."

"Kim has all this stuff to do--I hardly see her."

"Well, you've got the rest of your lives…getting your bed made every day. You miss her, huh?"

"No, I've got you."

The smile that crept across Helga's face was scarily endearing, as if she were actually having this conversation with Arnold instead of simply acting. The two of them had stayed after school for a couple of hours on the last day before winter break, going over their lines in the theater with Miss Hawkins watching them, giving them constructive criticism where needed. It hardly was.

"I've been thinking a lot the last couple days," Arnold continued, script in hand, but still glancing at Helga often enough. "About us, actually."

"Have you," Helga said in response, but without a script. She hadn't been using it for several days. "Well…there's a lot of memories to choose from."

"It's more than that," Arnold told her softly, gazing at her gently. She moved her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His lines carried him on, "I mean, it's embarrassing to say it this way, but…You've sort of been, you know, the woman in my life."

Oh, how she wished he weren't reciting lines. Helga continued the script with her next line, "You've been the man in mine."

"And I was thinking this could be our last time...alone. Together. You know?"

"Except for the hot affairs we'll have twice a year," she said jokingly.

The script instructed Arnold to laugh, so he did. "Except for that."

Miss Hawkins stood up and waved her arms above her hands. "Stop, stop, stop. That was beautiful, kids, but it's almost four thirty!"

"What's your point?" Helga asked, irked by the time. She was getting seriously into it and was upset at being cut off before the scene even ended.

"Point is," Miss Hawkins began, accustom to Helga's attitude, "the winter vacation started about two hours ago and you both are still in the school."

"You _asked_ us to stay and rehearse, Miss H," Arnold reminded her sweetly from his spot on stage.

Elena Hawkins groaned but couldn't help smiling at the two of them. "Thank you for that, but it's time…Go on, get out of here, you've done enough for today," she joked with them, grabbing her messenger bag and coffee mug.

Arnold gathered his things and slid off the stage while Helga grabbed her tote bag and stood at the edge of it. She was ready to jump off like Arnold did, but he stood in front of her and held out his hand.

"I can get off just fine by myself," she scowled.

"Then why haven't you jumped yet?" Arnold asked, smirking.

Scoffing, Helga pounced from the edge of the stage, knocking over a nearby chair as she landed. Cursing, she bent over to massage her knee.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm_ fine_, Arnoldo, I just hit my knee on that friggin' chair."

"You should have held my hand."

Twisting her face into another scowl, Helga gave a "humph!" and walked briskly up the pathway in front of Arnold. Inside her head, she rejoiced, figuring that some part of Arnold wanted her to hold his hand. Arnold ended up reaching the doors before she did and held them open for her. When he took note of her quizzical expression, he said, "It's a gentleman thing to do. So you're going to Rhonda's party?"

"Doi, Football Head," Helga answered. "I'm assuming _you_ are?"

"Yeah. Listen, if you're not busy during the break, I figured we could get some good rehearsal time in--"

Helga felt her face soften at the idea of spending countless hours alone with Arnold, going over all of their romantic scenes again and again.

"--that is, if it's okay with you."

The stammering and stuttering started up again. Unable to hide her reddening face, she made up for it by reluctantly agreeing with his suggestion. Satisfied, Arnold smiled and then asked her to come to his house the day after Christmas if at all possible to practice. She forced herself to agree unenthusiastically to this suggestion as well, and Arnold then offered to walk her home.

"I'm pretty excited about this play," Arnold said brightly. This certainly was good news for Helga, but she couldn't let him know that.

"Yeah, it has a pretty decent plot."

"I was under the impression that you liked it a lot," he said, glancing sideways at her. "You really have a good grasp on your character."

"That's 'cause she's pretty cliché, not too complex," Helga replied simply.

"You're just a really good actress, Helga," Arnold said casually, probably unaware of the fact that he was complimenting her. He said such sweet things so often that it was hard for most to tell, but Helga always noticed.

"It doesn't take that much skill to really act, _Arnoldo_," she snapped. "You just have to know who your character is and roll with it. Not very hard to do."

"Apparently it's a challenge for Blake Bourg," Arnold said with a chuckle.

"He's just stupid," Helga said. "I don't know how Sadie puts up with him."

"She doesn't."

"Huh?" Helga looked sideways at him, confused.

"They broke up last week."

Helga shrugged. "About time. He was a freakin'--"

"I'm happy she noticed that about him," Arnold cut her off, knowing perfectly well what Helga was about to say. "No one needs someone like him in their lives."

"Everyone _has_ someone like that, though…"

The thoughtful stare Arnold directed at Helga seemed to have set her skin on fire. Why was she always doing that to herself? Why couldn't she just keep her questionable comments inside her head? All of them were invitations for him to pry inside, and there was no way she could have that.

"If you have someone like that," Arnold started softly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "you should get rid of them."

_Hard to get rid of when the someone is your dad_, Helga thought, cautious of letting it slip past her lips. Before he could ask her, she questioned, "Do you have someone like that…?"

Surprised slightly by her inquiry, Arnold looked heavenward, then back at her. They would be approaching Helga's place in seconds, but he couldn't leave her without giving her an answer. "I used to think so. But looking back…no. I never kept someone like Blake in my life."

Helga smiled inwardly. The fear that the person he was referring to was more than likely herself erased. Maybe it was his way of saying that he wanted her around.

--

**Author's Note**--

About the choice of their play: The movie _My Best Friend's Wedding_ came out in the 90's, if I'm correct, starring Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz. Not only is it one of my favorites, but I thought it would definitely be an appropriate choice to go with my plot. As we get deeper into the fic--and if I decide to go into sophomore year, where even more action is planned to take place--you'll notice the significance of it.


	9. The Heat of the Moment

**Beforehand**--This is probably the most important chapter I've posted (not to mention my favorite so far). I've edited it about twelve times, tweaking this and that because I want to reveal a lot, but not too much. I'm a little worried about whether or not the happenings of this one are too soon, but I've convinced myself that it's the right time. I love hidden messages, but I'm not so wonderful at playing with them. Hopefully you understand, though. You're going to travel pretty far into Arnold's mind in this chapter, but not so far that you'll want to pull back once you've learned some of his thoughts. Keep in mind that every event is significant, thought-out, and crucial to the plot (even though I'm still working out the direction of it, but uh…). Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**, again, just for kicks: Bartlett's toys--I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 9**: The Heat of the Moment

It wasn't until the eighth grade that Helga discovered the benefits of wearing makeup and getting her eyebrows waxed. After years of being teased about being so tomboyish, especially when everyone hit puberty, Helga thought it best to conform in small ways, just to remind everyone that she was indeed a _girl_. It wasn't as if dresses and bows and the color pink were foreign to her; _embracing_ them was the real problem, so she traded them in for clothes that hugged her blossoming body and hairstyles that complimented the curve of her face. She'd been nervous at first about wearing shirts that showed off how well-endowed she'd become (especially since playing sports with the boys meant that she needed to do a lot of running), but after catching Arnold staring at her chest during a baseball game one day, she decided to wear them more often. By the time she was fourteen, she'd grown to a 36C while none of her friends grew past a B cup, making her larger just by comparison. She secretly hoped that they wouldn't surpass her in the future--her breasts were the only thing she had that they didn't. At least, that's what she told herself. When stating this worry out loud on the afternoon of Rhonda's Christmas party, Phoebe scolded her.

"Helga, you are _extremely_ pretty," she said for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, poking her head out of Helga's closet. "How many times should I say it before you start believing me?"

"I'll believe you when it comes _true_," Helga pouted, glaring at her reflection in the vanity mirror across the bedroom.

Rather than argue, Phoebe groaned and pulled out another blouse from inside the closet. "What about that one?"

"Pink is too springy," Helga stated simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"You sound more and more like Rhonda every time we discuss fashion."

"What can I say? Her _Highness_ has truly rubbed off on me," Helga joked, smirking.

"How about this?" Phoebe said admiringly, holding up a navy blue sweater.

Helga looked it over and shook her head. "Maybe I should go with red, you know, since it's a _Christmas_ party…"

"But isn't that a predictable choice of color?" Phoebe said pointedly, rummaging around in search of something crimson. "Surely a dozen other girls will be wearing red…"

"Pheebs, I don't _care_, I just wanna look decent, now find me something _red_!"

"Finding!" the small Japanese girl squeaked. She pulled a sweater off of its hanger and tossed it at Helga.

Helga grinned at her friend and held the sweater in front of her. Scoop neck, small black stripes, comfortable material--it would do. She removed the white tee she was wearing and pulled the red garment over her head. Smoothing it out over her stomach and tousling her hair so that it looked messy but attractive, Helga grinned at herself in the mirror. After a touch of black eyeliner, she'd feel pretty.

--

The Johanssen household was especially quiet with all of its occupants (besides Gerald) out and about. Arnold had been talking with his friend in his room for hours, preparing for Rhonda's party. Most of that time was spent watching Gerald rummage through his drawers in search of a very specific necktie.

"Now I _know_ it's gotta be in this one," Gerald said, exasperated.

"You checked that drawer _three_ times already, Gerald," Arnold told him slowly from his lazy position on the inflatable chair.

"Mm mm mm…" Gerald muttered, frustrated.

"It's probably with all your dirty clothes," Arnold said confidently, tossing a tennis ball in the air.

"I'm tellin' you man, it's not gonna be there," Gerald said defiantly, throwing a bundle of shirts over his shoulder.

Shaking his head, Arnold casually began talking about a subject that had been consistent with them for weeks. "Do you think Lila's gonna be there?"

Glancing oddly at Arnold over his shoulder for a split second, Gerald answered, "Sure she's gonna be there. Why, were you thinking you'd finally ask her out?"

Appalled, Arnold raised his eyebrow at him.

"Because from the way she hangs all over you," Gerald started, thumbing through his sock drawer, "it seems like she definitely wouldn't mind that happening."

"She's just making it _seem_ like I like her," Arnold told him, remembering Halloween. "I mean, first she goes and gets Sadie to believe we're dating, but then denies it, and for the past week I've had random girls ask me if I planned on asking her out. I don't get it, what does she want from me?"

Gerald shrugged, but told him solidly, "Maybe she just likes the way you liked her."

Arnold furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Don't you ever see that?" Gerald wondered, turning to face his friend while buttoning up his shirt. "When girls go ahead and flirt with guys just because they think they like them?"

At the look of confusion on his friend's face, Gerald let out a groan and turned back around, facing a full-length mirror. "It's all about attention, Arnold. Girls love it. When you liked them _once_--doesn't even matter when it was--it'll stick in their minds, and they _hate_ it when you get over them. Even though they don't like _you_, they like your _attention_. Maybe that's all Lila wants."

This made sense, but Arnold asked, "But what about every other guy that's liked Lila? There's a ton of them to choose from; why does she have to focus on _me_?"

"Hate to sound fruity, man, but look at the kind of guy you are," Gerald told him, trying to sound completely casual. "You're smart, caring, considerate, bright, good-looking, generous, devoted--"

Arnold's laugh cut him off. Waving his hand, he said, "But…if all she wants is attention, why doesn't she just, you know, suggest we go back to being friends?"

Gerald sighed. "That, I don't know. But here's a thing--do you even _wanna_ be friends with her?"

Thoughtful, Arnold cocked his head to the side. "I don't know. I'm used to being without her, but I guess…I don't really care, Gerald, I'm…pretty indifferent."

"Well, then just tell her to back off, simple as that. If you don't need her around, don't let her to try to _stick_ around, ya know? Check under that table over there, I'm telling you, it's in here…"

Arnold left his spot on the chair and peeked under the table next to the TV, but there was no tie. Gerald groaned.

"Speaking of backing off," Gerald began, sounding especially annoyed at being unable to find his tie, "why don't you tell that to Helga? She's been even _more_ of a pain this entire month."

Although he agreed with this, Arnold still tried to think of an excuse for her behavior. Gerald must have known this was coming, because he continued, "And don't try and defend her by saying something like, 'oh, maybe something's going on' or some shit like that."

"It's been going on ever since the night all the girls stayed at Rhonda's," Arnold told him thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling. "Do you think it could have been because she kissed Lila?"

"Oh _yeah_," Gerald mocked him, "maybe there was some Bitch Pill stuck in Lila's mouth that Helga swallowed by accident."

Lowering his eyelids, Arnold continued, "Come on Gerald, you and I both know she hates Lila, and maybe being that close to her really hit her hard."

"No one hates someone _that_ much that they'll be affected by one little thing for weeks," Gerald said unrealistically, looking through his middle drawer for the umpteenth time.

"I don't know, Gerald," Arnold wondered. "For some reason, Helga's always been extremely cold towards Lila, even though she doesn't really pick on her, she's never--"

"Remember how it used to be, Arnold?" Gerald suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Back when we were younger. Before we all grew up, including Helga."

"What's that gotta do with--"

"Everyone thought Lila was the cutest thing since the Mon Chi Chi, right?"

"And Helga was jealous, wasn't she?"

Jealous. That word etched itself into Arnold's brain as he agreed, "Yeah, I guess so…"

"Because Lila was prettier and more charismatic."

Somehow, Arnold didn't think that was the whole reason. "Uh…"

"And now we're older and everyone--including Helga--is a lot better looking with a more developed personality."

"So…"

"Whatever it is that Helga's got against Lila, it's definitely not what it used to be. I'm telling you, Lila probably did something distinctly formidable to her to cause her to behave like that."

"Well, you're right, but, what could it be?"

Losing his helpfulness, Gerald shrugged. "Beats me. Could you check under there one more time?"

Impatient, Arnold told him, "Gerald, that tie isn't under that table, and there has to be a solid reason why Helga's being so terrible lately. I mean, for some reason, I see Lila try to hang around her in school, and I don't know why she'd want to. I think she may be bugging her as often as she bugs me, which is weird."

"Maybe she's trying to get to you through Helga," Gerald thought deviously.

"I don't know. I just wish Helga wouldn't take it out on me."

"See? More proof that she's bugging Helga to get to you."

"How is Helga a link to _me_?" Arnold wondered, feeling a slight panic in his chest.

"I dunno, it was just a guess," Gerald told him casually, pushing aside several books on a shelf. He certainly was determined to find that necktie.

"Gerald, do you think it's because of what happened five years ago? You know, the thing I told you about Helga…"

Gerald slowly turned to face him, looking suspicious. "You mean…"

"When Helga kiss--"

"_Aw_ no, don't even start," Gerald rolled his eyes dramatically. "She was acting _crazy_, Arnold. I thought you believed her when she said it was just a--a--"

"It couldn't have been a mistake, Gerald, no one just--"

"Dude, she doesn't feel that way about you. You don't treat someone you 'love' as horribly as she's always treated you. Simple as that."

"But--"

"Arnold, the only way you'd ever find out if she was serious, is either to straight up ask her about it, or just--freakin' _kiss her_ again, and see what she does!" Gerald suggested jokingly, placing his hands on his hips. Looking at the ground, he spotted his necktie in a bundle of dirty clothes. "Oh hey, there it is…"

--

Rhonda's house was jam-packed by the time Helga had arrived with Phoebe. Of course, she had expected no less than a hundred teenagers to be present, but she didn't predict that so many of them would be clutching beers or smoking cigarettes. As she entered the crowded living room, she spotted Sid and Stinky, both of whom were taking long drags of Newport 100's. She'd known that they smoked ever since school started, but she'd never seen them do it before, so it was an odd sight. Taking Phoebe's arm, she led her over to the two boys.

"Hey guys," the blond said to them casually, eyeing their cigarettes.

"Howdy, Helga," Stinky greeted her before taking another drag and nodded to Phoebe, "Hey, Phoebe. Ya'll didn't see Curly when you walked in, did ya?"

Phoebe shook her head and scanned the room for Gerald, who wasn't anywhere in sight.

"I didn't see the _hostess_ either," Helga said, realizing that Rhonda was also apparently MIA. "Where's everyone else?"

"They'll be upstairs in the spare room, playing pool," Stinky said, jerking his head towards the stairs. "Gerald's in the kitchen, though," he said to Phoebe, who perked up. "Reckon he wanted to gulp down some' a that punch before the upperclassmen fellers got into it."

"I'm going upstairs, Pheebs," Helga said to her friend, who nodded and turned to find Gerald in the kitchen. On her way up the stairs, Helga brushed shoulders with Lila, who apologized quickly and nervously and hurried downward. The blond rolled her eyes. When she reached the top of the steps, she saw Eugene, Harold, Peapod Kid, and Iggy taking part in a game of pool. Sheena, Big Patty, and several others sat in chairs surrounding the table. Arnold was among them, seated on the far end of the row; his face was pallid and his eyes were dark.

"You're looking awfully _pissed_," Helga said pointedly, sitting down in an empty chair next to him.

It seemed that Arnold had no idea she was there until he heard her speak, because his eyelids fluttered as he looked about himself until he settled his gaze on Helga. Half-smiling, Arnold muttered, "Oh--Hi, Helga. You uh--look really great."

"Uh--well, geez--th--you look pretty okay yourself, Football Head," Helga fumbled over her words and crossed her arms, inwardly admiring how well his grey sweater hugged his upper body.

The boy grinned, but then sighed heavily and asked her, "Did you see Lila on your way up here?"

Flames seemed to have erupted inside of Helga's stomach as she grumpily answered, "Yeah, I did, why?"

Arnold rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "Nothing, she's just…I don't know what's up with her."

"What'd she _do_?" Helga asked sternly but curiously.

"When I came up here, she basically threw herself on me and started babbling on about us dating or something," he explained uncomfortably, taking note of the scowl on Helga's face, but he continued, "I don't understand what's wrong with her. She ignores me for over a year and then we get into high school and she starts acting like this."

"Maybe she's drunk," Helga suggested satirically, but Arnold just sighed again.

"I don't know what to do, Helga."

"Well, what do you want from her?"

Arnold looked inquisitive and Helga raised her eyebrows. "_Well_?"

"Well--I don't know, I mean--I don't really care, I mean, I got on fine without talking to her all of eighth grade, and I'm fine with not talking to her that much now, but, but--"

"But _what_?" Helga probed. "If she's bugging you, tell her you're _not interested _and you want her to back off. Then she'll get all _whiny_, but eventually she'll just leave you alone."

Arnold stared at her, dumbfounded, but nodded and looked at the floor. "That's what Gerald said…"

"Well Geraldo's pretty _smart_, so listen to both of us and just tell her to go fu--"

"Excuse me, Helga?"

_Damn it, of all people to interrupt me_, Helga thought, staring up at Lila. The redhead was standing in front of them, looking somber and uneasy.

"I was wondering, er--if I could talk to Arnold for a moment?"

Helga looked from Lila to Arnold, who seemed to be pleading silently with her not to leave him alone with the girl, and smiled slyly. "Oh sure, _Li_la. He's all yours…"

She smirked wickedly as she heard Arnold groan inconspicuously behind her.

--

By eleven o' clock, Arnold was sitting uncomfortably in Rhonda's basement on the floor, waiting for the hostess to come back downstairs with whatever she needed to begin a game of Five Minutes in Heaven. Gerald was leaning back in a beanbag chair with Phoebe on his lap; a giggling Lila was sprawled on the floor next to Arnold, who sat as close to Gerald's beanbag as possible. Helga sat directly across from them on a pillow in between an empty spot for Rhonda and Curly, who was chewing purple gum. Sid and Stinky were sitting in identical wicker chairs in between Nadine and Brainy, shoving breath mints into their mouths. Sheena and Eugene were sitting cross legged, holding hands, and Harold was next to them, sipping the last of his Diet Coke. The atmosphere was slightly tense, mostly due to the awkward conversation Arnold had with Lila during the preceding hours of the party, before she unknowingly got herself quite buzzed. Arnold supposed that she was unaware that someone had messed around with the punch and simply consumed too many glasses of it. He rolled his eyes as he watched her giggle and make faces at Nadine, who in turn would stick her tongue out and whisper loudly about nonsense things.

Arnold sighed with relief at the sight of Rhonda hurrying down the stairs, clutching a stack of cards in one hand and a drink in another. To his dismay, she appeared to be as buzzed as Lila. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes danced with light as she practically stumbled across the rug where everyone was seated.

"I wasn't kidding when I told you somebody spiked the punch," Gerald whispered from the corner of his mouth to Arnold as Rhonda settled down.

"You should have told Lila, maybe she wouldn't have taken so much," he mumbled in response. Arnold rolled his eyes and prayed that Rhonda would start the game fairly quickly. He didn't know how to play just yet, but he hoped whatever it was, it wouldn't involve much interaction with anyone.

Giggling, the hostess began to speak, "Okay everyone--the game is called Five Minutes in Heaven--and you know how to play…everyone gets a number and we mix them all up, haha…and then we pick a leader, which will be me, because, haha, I'm the hostess…once you get the hat passed to you, you have to randomly pick your partner, and once you've got your partner, you have to go in the closet and uh…haha…"

"You gotta makeout in the closet for _five minutes_, haha!" Nadine squealed, clearly very tipsy.

"Aw, does it gotta be five minutes straight?" Harold whined, slamming down his empty bottle.

"Well, it's only you and the other person in that closet, Big Boy," Gerald said knowingly. "Your choice what you do in there."

"But you can't do _nothing_, or else that defeats the whole purpose of the game," Sid said to Harold, putting several mints on his tongue.

"Who's gonna know what yer doing in there, though?" Stinky asked, confused.

"We'll open the door and sneak up on people who look suspicious," Nadine threatened wickedly, still laughing. Arnold figured that she wasn't going to calm down anytime soon, and hoped to God above that his number wouldn't get paired with hers.

"Okay, guys, everyone pick a number--but don't say it out loud! It's a secret--for _now_, haha!" Rhonda squeaked, giggling at Nadine, who was finally being so obnoxious that it caused the entire group to take turns chuckling at her. The cards were thrown into the center of the rug, and everyone reached out to grab one. Arnold ended up with number seven.

"I'll go first," Rhonda declared, suddenly serious. She had written the numbers one to fourteen on scraps of paper. The idea of the game was that you went around and passed the hat from one person to another in the circle, and they randomly picked the number of their partner.

"Number six," Rhonda called out, looking around the room excitedly. Sid nearly fell out of his chair as he said, "Oh, shit, that's me!"

Gerald exploded into laughter as the rest of the boys whooped at Sid. Curly was the only one who didn't find it amusing that she got paired with him, but he shrugged and took a sip of the Coke bottle at his side.

"Do you _have_ to stay in there for five minutes?" Phoebe turned in Gerald's lap to face him, and he shook his head at her.

"Five minutes is the minimum. I've heard of seniors who play really hardcore and let people stay in there for an hour if they want to."

Curly's face burned red but Helga consoled him, relatively. "Come _on_, do you _really_ think Rhonda will be in there with _Sid_ for longer than the minimum amount of time?" she reassured him and added, "I doubt she can even handle five minutes."

"I dunno, Helga, she's not feeling like herself after all that punch," Stinky said slowly.

"Somebody should have given them a warning," Sheena said, looking darkly at Nadine, who was studying the wrapper on Harold's empty Diet Coke bottle in dumb fascination.

Within another three minutes, Rhonda and Sid emerged from the closet, both a brilliant shade of magenta. Arnold tried to convince himself that he was merely imagining that Sid had been giggling like a little girl as he took his seat. Rhonda cleared her throat and passed the hat to Curly, who called out number twelve.

Sheena cast Eugene an especially worried look, but her boyfriend shrugged it off and laughed. Curly smirked as he led Sheena to the closet.

"Be nice to her, Curly!" Eugene said brightly.

"I'm mad you're so cool with your girlfriend being in there with some other guy," Gerald said pointedly, giving Eugene an odd stare.

The redheaded boy shrugged and said, "It's only a game, guys. I've got nothing to worry about."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arnold saw Helga make an uncomfortable face and bite on her bottom lip. When she noticed him looking at her, she sneered and pointedly turned her head away. He averted his eyes to the floor but looked up in time to see Curly and Sheena stumble out of the closet, both looking extremely embarrassed.

"That was _so_ weird--kiss me, Eugene," Sheena squeaked, pecking her boyfriend on the lips. Curly shuddered and said, "Geez, that was odd," and passed the hat to Harold. He called out number eight and got Nadine. When the two of them returned to the circle after much laughter five minutes later, Harold passed the hat to Stinky, who called number four and got Lila. The group whooped and hollered, and the two of them looked extremely cheerful when their five minutes had ended. After Stinky went Sheena, who got Eugene, and when Eugene went, he got Lila. Clearly upset that Lila got picked twice, Rhonda demanded that everyone sit in a different place, as if it would make much difference. After getting settled on another spot on the rug, Nadine called number six and got Sid, who didn't looked too pleased with the outcome. Brainy called a number after they returned and got Sheena, who cringed as they made their way to the closet. Phoebe was next to pick a number; she got Brainy. Gerald picked and got Phoebe, who looked ridiculously ecstatic to have been his partner. When they returned, Arnold was next in line to pick a number. The luck of the draw gave him four, Lila's number.

A low growl came from beside him; Helga she looked almost formidable with that heart-wrenching frown on her face. Before he could debate why she looked like that, Lila seized his arm and pulled him to the broom closet. Several of the kids laughed as Stinky yelled, "Have fun!"

Arnold shakily stepped into the dark broom closet with Lila, who was giggling uncontrollably.

"It's been a while since _this_ happened, hm, Arnold?" she said airily, still buzzed.

"Lila," he reminded her, "we never kissed."

"Well that's about to change, isn't it?" she asked rhetorically, and placed her hands lazily on his shoulders to bring him to her lips. Arnold stiffly allowed her to peck him, but he didn't make a move back. She noticed this and pulled away, seeming to be slightly angry.

"Why, Arnold, I'm ever so certain that you're supposed to _kiss_ me," she said impatiently, her voice slurring.

"Sorry, Lila," he began, feeling almost nauseous, "I just…it feels weird."

She laughed loud enough for everyone outside the door to hear and said, "Why, Arnold, whatever would be the reason why?"

"Because, Lila, I don't know if you noticed, but we haven't really talked for a year and now we're in a closet together, playing a childish kissing game."

Again, she laughed obnoxiously. "Oh Arnold, you're ever so silly, now stop being a stick in the mud, kiss me--"

"Lila--"

"Oh just think, Arnold, you and I can do this all the time when we get together again!"

Blinking several times and backing up against the wall, Arnold shook his head vigorously. "Lila, I told you earlier, I don't think I'm really interested in--"

"Oh Arnold, it's sweet how you lie to yourself about your feelings."

Her lips crashed into his again, and Arnold felt his head dizzy with the slight taste of the alcohol. He decided right then to later have a serious word with whoever spiked the punch, and then pulled back from her.

"I think that's quite enough, Lila, now, please, let's get out of this closet…"

"But it hasn't been five minutes, Arnold!"

"Please, Lila, just…" Arnold opened the door and sighed, following the tipsy girl back into the room with everyone else. He sighed as he watched her stumble carelessly to the floor and exchange giggles with Nadine.

"That was only like, three and a half minutes!" Sid exclaimed, throwing a mint at Arnold.

"It's whatever, Sid! Just pass the hat to Helga, _Ar_nold," Harold bellowed, pointing a grubby finger at the blond girl. To Arnold's surprise, she looked distinctly pleased with herself. Her hand dove into the hat and retrieved a small piece of paper. The blue in her eyes seemed to have shimmered when she called out the number seven.

Rising up from the floor, Arnold smiled warmly at her and jerked his head towards the closet. Every girl in the room dissolved into fits of giggles and the boys all laughed obnoxiously. Rhonda hollered, "It's like the school play _all_ over again, Helga!"

In turn, Helga made an obscene hand gesture at her friend and stalked her way over to the closet. "Come on _Football _Head, make it easy on me and get this over with."

Arnold shut the door, forgetting that it was scarily dark in there as he tried to make out Helga's form. He felt himself feeling suddenly nervous; it hit him that this was a golden opportunity.

"How was kissing Lila?" she immediately asked wickedly.

"_She_ kissed _me_. I didn't kiss her back."

There didn't have to be any light in the room to tell that Helga's jaw dropped. "Why not?"

"Because, Helga, I told you, I can get on fine without her," he told her confidently, feeling more at ease despite his racing heart. It had hit him. Gerald could possibly have been right; the answer could possibly be right in front of him; opportunity was banging on the door. All it took was just one little move, and her response would be the clear affirmation.

He knew all too well that she wasn't going to be the one to instigate anything when she furthered the subject. "I told you in the beginning she wasn't worth it, and if you'd have just listened to _me_, you wouldn't have to deal with her bull _now_," she told him menacingly, determined to sound like a know-it-all.

"Well, like you said, I'm sure she'll leave me alone after a while," Arnold said calmly. If he was going to do this, he had to get his timing just right. As soon as she would speak again, that would be his signal.

"_Yeah_, maybe if your stupid cou--"

Arnold couldn't have given her a chance to finish. He knew that if he left it up to her, they would be in there for fifteen minutes, not five, and doing anything but making out. Helga had a bad habit of stalling when she didn't want to do what her heart wanted her to, and he couldn't it happen this time. There was something he had to know, and kissing her was the only way that he thought he would get his answer. Just like he predicted, he got it.

He allowed his arms to snake around her waist as he darted his tongue slowly in and out of her parted mouth. He made sure that his every move was seductive and irresistible, so that she wouldn't stand a chance. A small, nearly inaudible moan escaped from Helga as she gripped the sides of his face, lowering them gradually and lightly scratching at his neck. Her lips retained that taste of strawberry lemonade. He pulled Helga closer and tighter to him, sinking his hips into hers, and he felt her entire body writhe in his grasp. If he'd been right, her sudden spasm was due to an overload of pleasure, an overwhelming feeling beyond satisfaction. If his theory was correct, she wanted this--_badly_, and surprisingly, he had no problem fulfilling her wishes. As he feared, he was enjoying this far too much, and didn't really want it to end just yet, but he knew this was too much. Unwillingly he broke away from her face, but still had his arms wrapped around her. She too, left her arms encircled about his neck. Her breath came in short, quick gasps as she looked up at him in the dark, flabbergasted.

"_Shit_, Arnoldo, what--why--what the hell?" she was beside herself; completely vulnerable. His course of action stripped her of her disguise, and they were both aware of it. His plan worked.

"I uh…I'm sorry, Helga, I just…" he let out a small laugh suddenly, remembering something that was seemingly insignificant. He knew she would remember though, if his guess was correct. He slyly used the excuse the both of them did after the FTI incident and said lowly, "I guess I just…got caught in the heat of the moment."

--

**Author's Note**--about that spiked punch: In case you didn't get it, the girls didn't get drunk purpose. Some upperclassmen at the party totally juiced it with alcohol and nobody knew until, of course, **after** a ton of younger kids drank a ton of it. Rhonda, Lila, and Nadine just happened to fall victim ;)

About everything else, uh...hahaha. I love this chapter. :)


	10. I Won't Lose You, Will I?

**Beforehand**--thanks for the reviews, guys. Not all were what I expected, but uh…it's fine. _I _like my story, so I'm gonna keep going regardless. I wasn't going to post this chapter until I finished 11, but I thought I wouldn't keep you waiting, so here it goes. This is a pretty slow-moving one, so I warn you.

Oh, **Disclaimer**…These are Bartlett's toys, I'm just playing with them.

**Chapter 10**: I Won't Lose You, Will I?

Arnold never really asked for anything for Christmas. Even though they knew they wouldn't get answers, his grandparents still asked him every year what he would like, but he always told them that he didn't need to have anything special. After he turned ten, they started grilling Gerald to see if there was anything their grandson had his eye on in particular to surprise him with on Christmas Day. This year would be no different; Arnold figured that Gerald already told them about the keyboard he'd been admiring down at Twin Rivers, but he didn't expect to get it. He never expected anything, but he did wind up getting the keyboard. Being who he was, he playfully scolded them and the boarders for all pitching in to buy it for him before he thanked him, insisting that he didn't deserve something so expensive and nice. Phil, as expected, laughed and told him to pipe down and enjoy making music. From after breakfast until noon, Arnold sat up in his room and toyed with it, playing songs he knew and melodies he'd made up in his head. He was getting very far in a song he'd been recently into when a knock on his door disturbed him.

Rolling his eyes, he figured it was his grandfather. "Come in, Grandpa."

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked him as he shut the door behind him.

"I just knew," Arnold smiled, turning in his stool to face him.

Grandpa pulled up chair by the closet and sat next to him, looking over the instrument in wonderment. "It sure is a mighty fine-looking thing."

"Yeah, it's really nice, thanks again," Arnold told him, playing a couple of notes.

"Will ya stop thanking me already? It's Christmas, for Pete's sake, you get gifts, yeesh! Now play me something, Arnold, don't think I got this for ya without expecting to get entertained."

Sighing, Arnold reached for one of the books of sheet music Gerald gave to him in search of something he knew how to play already. There were a few arrangements of songs by Frank Sinatra, and "L.O.V.E." caught his eye. He learned to play it back in the sixth grade; of course, he hadn't played it since then, having practiced it so many times. But he knew Grandpa liked it, so he went ahead and pecked his fingers away at the keys.

Surely enough, Grandpa grinned and swayed along to the tune. "Ah, Short Man, that's great--can you sing with it, too?"

Without stopping, Arnold kept playing, but widened his eyes and shook his head.

"Ah, come on, Short Man, you know the words!" he teased, elbowing him.

"Yeah, but Grandpa--"

"Arnold, come on now, you can sing! Everyone can sing, it's just that hardly anyone sings _well_," he told him cheerfully, but Arnold shook his head again.

"I can't _sing_, Grandpa, really, I just play the music--"

"Well, you should definitely learn how by next week, since your cousin Arnie would love to hear it."

"_Arnie's_ visiting?" Arnold asked worriedly, continuing playing the song.

"Arnie's moving in!"

Arnold stopped the song abruptly and slammed his fingers on the keyboard. "He's _what_?!" he shouted, flabbergasted.

"I know, I know," Grandpa started, sighing. "Nobody's really that fond of your weird cousin--except for maybe your Grandma, but she's not too normal herself--anyways, he's gonna be moving into the boarding house and going to school here and all that."

"But--_why_?" Arnold asked painfully, dreading the thought of Arnie occupying the same building as him for longer than a week's time.

Grandpa scratched the back of his neck as he explained. "Well, your aunt and uncle are both getting full time jobs, and they don't wanna leave him alone all the time, so they figured he should come over here and stay with us."

"Isn't there anywhere else he could--"

"Believe me, Arnold, if I knew about anyone else willing to take him I would have suggested it," Grandpa insisted, lowering his voice. "But there isn't, so lucky us, we get Arnie. His room will be Mr. Smith's old one and his parents are paying his rent."

Arnold let out a long, drawn-out sigh and practically bashed his face into the keyboard.

"I did the same thing at the table downstairs," Grandpa told him, rising from his seat. "Only the table didn't make that noise, haha!"

With a chuckle and a mumble of "I'm such an old coot," Grandpa exited his grandson's room, leaving him to wallow in dread of his upcoming turmoil.

--

"Man oh _man_, just when I thought we were never gonna have to see your cousin again, he has to go ahead and waltz right back into the picture."

Gerald and Arnold shared breakfast at Bigal's Café the following morning, discussing Arnie. They were seated at the same table Rhonda and Curly had occupied a short time ago.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do, Gerald," Arnold said miserably, poking at his eggs with a fork. "I mean, it wasn't so bad the last time I saw him, but--"

"Arnold," Gerald started, "the last time you saw Arnie, you were fighting with him about Lila."

Lowering his eyelids at the remembrance of the past, Arnold continued, "Well, I'm fine about the Lila thing now, aren't I? I mean, I'm over it. I don't care about him and her."

"Then why are you getting all worked up about him coming to stay here?"

This was a good question, seeing as Arnold had no idea how to respond.

"Aw no," Gerald began fearfully. "Don't tell me you're started to get feelings for her again."

"No!" Arnold retorted quickly, waving his hands in front of him. "Geez, Gerald, I've been trying to pry her off of me the past month!"

"Well?" Gerald pushed. "What have you got to worry about, then?"

With a sigh, Arnold leaned back in his chair and stared at the remaining food on his plate. Gerald had a point; since he no longer had nor wanted Lila, Arnie couldn't possibly take her away from him. But then again, Arnie had lost interest in her, so that left him to pursue the other girls. But Arnold didn't _like_ any of the other girls, so he couldn't possibly get anything stolen from him this time, right?

Arnold met eyes with Gerald, debating inside his head whether or not to bring it up.

"What, man?" Gerald asked seriously.

"I just…" Arnold didn't know how to word it. "I…"

"What?" Gerald grew impatient quickly.

"I _don't_ like anyone, do I?"

Cocking his head to the side, Gerald told him, "You haven't said anything about that lately."

"What's the last I said about that?" Arnold asked him, dependant on using Gerald to answer his own questions.

"The last time I heard you talk about that was when you were under the impression that Helga G. Pataki was in love with you," Gerald answered him between laughs. He still hadn't learned to take it seriously.

"I was thinking, Gerald…maybe--"

"_Aw_ no," Gerald cut him off, worried. "No, no Arnold, no way. We been through this already. Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" Arnold asked innocently.

"You know _exactly_ what I'm trying to say, now don't do it."

"What, Gerald? What?" he tested him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

"You're thinking you might like Helga, aren't you?" Gerald asked, reading his thoughts.

He caught him. "I--uh--"

"You're thinking about when we saved the neighborhood and she went crazy and confessed her undying love for you on top the FTI building."

"Well--I--"

"_Forget_ it, Arnold," Gerald said, trying to make a point. "It was a crazy night and she flipped her lid! She probably drank some of her mom's smoothies before she went and stalked us. You don't think she was serious, do you?"

In fact, that was exactly what he thought. "How else can you explain the fact that she followed us around town all night and fed us vital information--even though she disguised herself, she went out of her way to help us."

"Did you forget the way she's always treated you, even _continues_ to treat you?" Gerald pressed.

Arnold frowned, surprised at Gerald. "Come on Gerald, she was much worse when we were younger. She grew up a lot and you know it."

"She still acts like a bitch towards you, though."

"Only sometimes!" Arnold argued, determined.

Gerald was, too. He fought back. "Yeah, but think of all those 'sometimes.' She's never grateful for all you do for her, she's constantly insulting you, she's messed a bunch of shit up for you--face it, Arnold, she hates you!"

Arnold shook his head and reverted back to his memory. "_Hate_ is a strong word. Besides, you're forgetting, Gerald. She hears me out, she lends me a shoulder--she was even there for me through the Lila thing, even though she can't stand her. And don't you remember _anything_ about saving the neighborhood? She gave us everything we needed to know--without her, we wouldn't have done it. Why would she risk her life if she didn't at least _like_ me, even the littlest bit?"

Shrugging, Gerald admitted, "Okay, okay, so she went ahead of herself that one time. Still, I highly doubt she _loves_ you."

"Why, though?" Arnold inquired, extremely curious.

"Why are you so obsessed with figuring this out?" Gerald shot back at him.

"Gerald, if I don't understand _her_ feelings, how am I going to figure out my own?"

Gerald looked thoughtful for a moment, completely silent. The look on his face told Arnold that he understood and agreed. His nod was an invitation to continue his train of thought.

"Besides, I took your advice."

Gerald eyed him curiously and asked, "What advice?"

"Remember before Rhonda's party, when you said the only I'd know if she--when you told me to kiss her and her reaction would be the answer?"

Gerald let out an obnoxious groan and smacked himself in the forehead. "I thought you knew better than to take that seriously!"

Arnold huffed and continued, "Well, I kissed her in the closet."

"_And_?"

"Her reaction proved my point!"

"She slugged you, didn't she?"

"Gerald, she practically _melted_ in my arms."

"So?" he said, obviously not wanting to think about Helga Pataki actually having feelings. "Maybe you're just that good of a kisser."

"Gerald…"

"What did she say after it happened?"

"Well--" Arnold remembered how she looked right after they broke away, right before she said a single word. She was practically glowing; her eyes were shining in the dark, but of course, it only lasted a few seconds before she snapped at him, demanding to know why he planted one on her. He explained himself and she, of course, flew off the handle. Arnold sighed hopelessly as he remembered her threat. "_If you ever, _ever_ do anything like that ever again, _Football Head_, I'll rip all of your limbs off and nail them to your front door!"_ As expected, Gerald laughed at all of this, saying that his point was proven. Sighing, Arnold fell silent and watched Gerald nibble on a piece of toast.

"Don't you remember when we were younger, when kids who liked each other always picked on each other to cover it up?" Arnold asked him after a long pause.

The boy took a bite of his pancake. "Well, yeah…"

"How do you know that's not the method Helga always used? How can you be so sure she doesn't…_love_ me? Why would she say something that outrageous if she didn't mean it?"

Gerald took a sip of his hot cocoa and set his mug down slowly. "_Love_ is a strong word, Arnold, and kids our age throw it around like it's nothing. And she was _how_ old when she said it? _Nine_?"

Arnold sank in his seat, frowning at his friend. Gerald was making almost too much sense, but Arnold was so sure that somehow, he was right about Helga. Frustrated, Arnold took an aggressive bite of his bacon and narrowed his eyes at his friend.

In turn, Gerald shook his head and chuckled, shoving the toast into his mouth.

"Seriously, Arnold, what _nine-year-old _understands what love is?"

--

"Oh, _Arnold_…"

Helga hadn't had such a good time all alone in months. Sweating slightly, she pulled her shorts back up over her thighs and gently placed her Christmas gift from Olga back in her bedside drawer.

"Keep it locked, baby sister," Olga advised her the previous night. She'd presented the gift to her many long hours after their parents had gone to sleep, and Helga discovered why after she'd unwrapped it.

She didn't expect Olga to give her a toy of _that_ kind for Christmas or any other occasion, especially not when Helga was merely fourteen, but her sister had gone to great lengths in order to feel closer to her, especially now that she was hardly ever able to visit home. Even though it was weird and random, Helga had to admit that it was indeed the best gift she'd ever received.

After her breath had finally slowed down, Helga decided that she couldn't sleep, even though she had worn herself out. The blankets were thrown aside as she climbed out of her bed and tiptoed to the closet.

There was no longer a model of her beloved composed of used bubble gum or any other garbage material that resembled him on display behind the clothes. When she turned thirteen, she sent the rotting pile of debris to the garbage and replaced it with a four foot by four foot poster, plastered with dozens and dozens of pictures of Arnold. It took her about a month to cover it with photographs from the school newspaper, his personal websites, past yearbooks, and photo albums from friends, but she managed to occupy most of it. There were several spaces that she left open, such as the top right corner, in which she vowed to cover with a photograph of her and Arnold together. How she was going to get a particularly nice one with him, she didn't yet know, but she knew that that significant spot was reserved for a specific Kodak moment.

Pulling out one of her notebooks from the shelves, she flipped through its scribbled-on pages, searching for a blank spot. Once she glanced at half of the book, she found one, and grabbed one of the pens that sat on the shelf. Feverishly, she sat cross-legged in front of the poster and clapped her hands to turn on the light so that she could write…

_Oh Arnold, all of the alcohol in Miriam's stash couldn't possibly intoxicate me as easily or as quickly as the taste of your sweet, delicious lips_…

Sighing deeply, Helga closed her eyes and bit her lip, remembering Rhonda's party and the game of Five Minutes in Heaven with relish. It was merely by the luck of the draw that she wound up with Arnold in that dark, tight closet, but _he_ was the one who had made the move and instigated the kiss. A quiver ran the length of her spine as she remembered every touch and every movement of Arnold's; the way his tongue gently ran over her lip, the tight grip he had on her waist…and the overwhelmingly hypnotic scent of his shampoo. Arnold had been passionate and aggressive in those painfully short, surreal five minutes, and Helga loved it; swallowed it whole and kept it in the pit of her stomach to make herself squirm with excitement and longing. That kiss was the most he had ever given her and it left her hoping--_starving_ for even more. Whether or not she was going to get her wish was a mystery.

--

Arnold had phoned Helga a couple of days before New Year's Eve, asking her to come to his house and rehearse their play in his bedroom for a few hours. After-school practices were going to begin soon as they returned from break, and Arnold knew that he needed to prepare. Jerkily stating that she had better things to do than sit around reciting lines with him, she grudgingly agreed to come over in the afternoon. Smiling to himself, Arnold pulled a red flannel shirt over his wife beater and waited for his guest to arrive.

There was a knock on his bedroom door at two o' clock sharp. Assuming it was Helga, Arnold rose from his lazy position on his couch and tossed his script to the floor to answer the door.

It was her indeed, dressed simply in a pink shirt and black slim jeans. Arnold took note of the pink ribbon around her neck, forgetting that she wore it so often, but figured he'd wait to comment on it. This afternoon had to run as closely to plan as possible.

"All right _Arnoldo_, get your script, let's run through that scene we got cut off at," she said bossily, setting her tote bag down and flopping on the couch.

The blond boy sat right next to her with his script in hand, determined. Flipping to the correct page, he glanced at her questioningly to be sure.

"What scene was that, Helga?"

Impatiently, she pointed to the number in the corner of a page in her own script. "Scene five, _genius_, the one where we're getting mushy on the boat."

"Oh--right," he mumbled, glancing over the page to find his spot. "Right here, is that where we were?"

Rolling her eyes, Helga nodded, waiting to get into character.

He began with his line: "I can hardly wait for _your_ wedding."

"Me either," she replied as instructed by the script. Arnold looked at her in surprise, only partly because his script told him to do so.

"Boy, I never thought I'd hear you say that. Can I come?" he continued, smiling.

The blue in Helga's eyes softened as she seemed to hold herself back, but she replied, "I couldn't have it without you."

Arnold did his best to embrace his role, Michael, as Julianne's best friend and object of her deepest affection, so he looked at her intensely, as if he knew the secret meaning behind her words. Looking from her to the wall, Arnold said to her, "It's normal to have…second thoughts, huh? To be scared."

Sensing the turn in conversation, Helga said, "I wouldn't know. I never had that many first thoughts."

"I mean, you commit to a wedding," Arnold told her as Michael, grasping the part. "And then it seems like...this...momentum, you know? You forget you...chose it."

She nodded, awaiting his next line.

"You and I…I mean, in all our relationships with other people...We didn't use the word 'love' a lot, did we?" Arnold managed to force the sentences out of his mouth. Bravely, he continued, "Kimmy says…When you love someone, you say it, you say it out loud. Right now, or the moment…"

Helga gazed at him intently, almost smiling; longing swimming in the blue pools that were her eyes. He imagined that the script called for her to look at him like that, but he knew better.

"…passes you by. She's a smart girl."

Helga looked down at her lap and then ahead of herself at the wall, awaiting his next line, which was: "We don't have a song."

Glancing back at him, she raised an eyebrow.

"Kimmy and I. We don't have a song. Is that a bad sign?"

Helga shrugged, almost smirking. She knew what was coming next, and Arnold feared it. He knew too, but he certainly didn't want to do it. His discomfort seeped through his character and Helga scolded him.

"Come on, Arnoldo, you gotta sing."

Grunting, Arnold rolled his eyes and glanced back at his script. He wanted to make sure he remembered the correct melody.

"Someday, when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold…"

Helga instantly reverted back into character, grinning softly at him as he continued to sing.

"I will feel a glow, just thinking of you, and the way you look…tonight."

Arnold looked gently at her, smiling, completely unaware that the script ordered him to do so.

"Dance card filled?" he asked.

"I'll check," she said, rising up from her seat as he did the same. "I have it on powerbook, these days."

Steadily, he held out his arm, inviting her to come into them. She did, and as she did so, she murmured, "This part is _crucial _to the play, Arnoldo. If we screw it up, we screw up the _whole_ image of Michael and Jules' relationship, so make sure you get it _right_."

"That's why I've got you here, Helga," he told her softly, smiling down at her and turning her slowly on the spot.

As he expected, she stared at him, bewildered, for just a moment, and then slowly rested her head on his shoulder. He sang his lines in her ear.

"With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart…"

She pulled him closer.

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, touches my foolish heart…" he stopped to look at her, still in his arms.

"Where did we first hear th…"

"The night we met," she answered, barely audible. "The night we fell in love."

Arnold swallowed hard at the way the l-word fell from her lips. This was all simple acting, and he was torturing himself by looking into the deeper meaning of it.

"So we heard it…like, right that…that first…"

"We danced to it," she told him softly, turning him, "just like this."

Just like that. The way her hand gripped his shoulder, the position of his arm around her waist--it was just like that the last time they danced, years ago, on April Fools' Day. He wondered if she remembered, and then looked in her eyes. Of course she did.

"I won't lose you, will I?" he asked suddenly, remembering that he had a line.

"No," she said almost too fiercely. "Because I won't let you."

--

**Author's Note**--

About Helga's "gift": I'm pretty sure you know what it is…I figured it would bring more of the "teen heat" into the story, plus, it's always fun to see an action that's totally OOC (referring to Olga buying it for her, not Helga using it. I'm not sure about you, but I find her doing that scarily realistic). She's shown some certain sexual desires for the boy in the series, and now here, she's got hormones, which increase those desires, so there's the reasoning.

Remember the mention of that classic Sinatra song--I plan on bringing it up again in a later chapter.

Psst--are you paying attention to _My Best Friend's Wedding_? ;)


	11. Watching the Ball Drop

**Beforehand--**Whoo lawd, I'm sorry about lagging so much. I just finished driver's ed, and I've been hanging out with friends just about every day, and man, I've just been busier than I expected to be, but things have calmed down a bit so I can go back to writing more. I'm hoping this chapter will blow over nicely. Thanks for the reviews and all. Happy reading.

**DisCLAIMAAAAHH**: TheseareBartlett'stoysandI'mjustplayingwithemlolololol.

**Chapter 11**: Watching the Ball Drop

_He's late_, Helga thought bitterly, shaking underneath her pea coat.

_Ten 'til three_. Curly was supposed to have showed up fifteen minutes ago. Anxiously, she scanned the entire area of Geraldfield for the fifth time. It was painted with a fresh coat of blinding white snow. The freezing wind seemed to have slapped her cheeks with its bitter, clammy hands even as she took cover under the bleachers. She cursed the boy inside her head; he sounded so urgent on the phone, so why was he running late?

A crunching noise came from behind her.

"Helga--thank God you're here--"

Whipping around, Helga met eyes with Curly. To her surprise, he was ghostly white; tears stained his cheeks and he was sniffling like a child with a fever.

"Criminey, Curly, what's--"

The boy fell into her arms like an apple falling from a tree, randomly without warning. Taken aback, Helga held him limply as he buried his face in her shoulder. When he started sobbing, she pulled him a little closer, wrapping her arms all the way around him. This made him cry even harder. Helga bit her lip and patted his unruly hair. What was she to do or say? She was terrible with words. Lucky for him, he knew that. He wouldn't have expected her to say anything; she would just listen, and that would be enough for him.

--

Something warm erupted in the pit of Helga's stomach as she laid a sleeping Curly on her bed. She supposed that it was simply the unfamiliar satisfaction of helping someone that filled her torso with fire; the girl had never really showed any compassion to anyone other than Arnold, and that never even happened directly. She pondered this while scanning the boy's limp and lifeless-looking figure, sprawled lazily on top of her sheets. It was then that she noticed how fragile he was; how the physical signs of potential insanity were absent from his face. The ever-present abnormal glow to the brown of his eyes disappeared only now, as they were closed. The boy sighed in his slumber.

The blond girl sighed heavily, feeling her lungs expand almost painfully as she allowed the boy's recount of the previous night float about her mind. She wandered across the room and faced the vanity. Closing her eyes tightly, she imagined the look on Curly's face when he passed by Sid's stoop nearly twenty-four hours before; what he must have felt when he laid eyes on Rhonda wrapping her arms around Sid's neck, locking herself in a fierce embrace with him. Helga's stomach bubbled.

Curly and Rhonda hadn't been anything official, so the scene with Sid wasn't technically cheating…

Helga turned to face the sleeping teen on her bed and closed her eyes for another moment.

It was still wrong on Rhonda's part…on Sid's as well, for that matter. He knew perfectly well how his friend felt about her, and for him to take such action was sickening. Their deed would be the equivalent of Helga herself pulling Gerald in for a kiss on the porch (Helga shuddered at the thought).

_But they really like each other_, Helga remembered, biting at her lip. _They did since last year_.

--

At thirteen, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was at her worst. Everyone supposed that it was Curly's accident that caused it, but whatever the reason, she was distant and difficult and basically cold towards everyone. Helga honestly couldn't think of a single reason why she put forth the effort into keeping a friendship with her, but they'd known each other so long that admittedly, it would be difficult to even dream of letting her go. Though she was judgmental, harsh, inconsiderate, and unworthy of Helga's trust, she allowed her access into her heart that sometimes even Nadine was denied. Somewhere along the line, the two girls discovered that they were more alike than they ever guessed before, and the silent realization led to the spilling of certain secrets--on Rhonda's part, anyway.

It must have been during winter break their eighth grade year, when the kids in the gang finally were recovering from Curly's fiasco several months earlier. Rhonda, driven by guilt and remorse, had been comforted by Sid, whom Curly had been closest to before he was taken away. Helga didn't find the two of them spending a lot of time together very questionable until Rhonda confessed on the phone to her one night that she had a massive crush on him.

"I feel so, so guilty, Helga, but I really like him," she gushed in a whisper. "Just please, don't tell anyone I told you, okay?"

"I didn't plan on it, _Princess_, but geez, what about Curly?" Helga had responded irritably. There was silence on the other end. Obviously, Rhonda had thought nothing of him.

"Sid doesn't want to do anything until he talks to Curly about it…"

--

It took Helga nearly an hour to persuade Curly to go out for coffee to get his mind off of Rhonda, but she eventually succeeded. Their walk to Bigal's was a quiet one, until Helga spotted Arnold. He was accompanied by another blond boy with a similar-shaped head; Helga felt panic rise in her chest and guided Curly to the emptier side of the café.

"Helga," Curly muttered, finally looking her in the face. "What's wrong?"

"What?" Helga asked quickly, carefully avoiding catching Arnold's eyes. "Nothing's _wrong_, Curly, yeesh, why do you always assume that?"

"Because you look like you're about to be sick," Curly answered, smiling for the first time all day. Taking a guess, he glanced past the tables to the front desk and spotted Arnold.

"You know Helga, if you wanna go talk to--"

"I don't wanna go _over_ there, Curly," Helga affirmed sternly.

"--I wouldn't have a problem with it if you just--"

"Don't even, Curly, stop," she whispered fiercely, leaning over the table slightly. "I've had enough drama for today."

"Since when does Arnold cause you any--"

"Not _Arnold_, you imbecile," Helga told him, her eyes darkening. She jerked her head backwards, indicating the boy that was at the front desk with Arnold. Curly glanced over again and gave a small gasp.

"That's--"

"Exactly," Helga grunted, completely unaware that their waitress had arrived.

"Good afternoon, you guys!"

Helga snapped up to look at their server. As her eyes made their way upward and took note of the dark red ponytail and freckles, she felt her stomach bubble again.

"I didn't know you worked here, Lila!" Curly said flakily, faking brightness.

"I just started a couple of days ago," the redhead told him through a pearly white smile.

"I thought they only hire fifteen and up," Helga muttered bitterly, staring at the girl's nametag.

"My birthday was a week before Christmas," Lila told her brightly, removing a small notepad from her pocket. "Now, are you ever so sure that you're ready to order?"

"Hit us with a couple of hot chocolates, _Li_la, and make sure one of them doesn't have whipped cream on top," Helga ordered.

"All righty then, I'll be back with your drinks in a few minutes!" Lila scurried away, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

"As if this day couldn't get any worse," Helga groaned, slamming her head down on the table.

"Oh, put a sock in it Helga," Curly told her, patting her arm. "Look on the bright side, Arnold's getting a table next to us."

"What?"

Sure enough, Arnold was making his way over to a small table right beside Helga and Curly. Strangely, though, he didn't seem to notice that they were so near to him; there were dark circles under his eyes and his face was whiter than normal. The boy he was with sat across from him and averted his gaze toward Helga, who cringed and sank into her seat.

"Hey Arnold," the boy began in a somber, monotonous voice, "isn't that Helga?"

Arnold lifted his gaze from the floor and smiled weakly at Helga, who rose up a little bit in her seat and gave a snort.

"What brings _you_ here, _Arnoldo_?"

Arnold gave an exhausted huff. "Arnie was in the mood for hot chocolate."

Helga and Curly exchanged glances and then looked at the paler, blonder boy across from Arnold. Aside from the similar-shaped head and green eyes, Arnie didn't look much like his cousin. Where Arnold was fit and relatively thin, Arnie had grown to be more on the husky side, and the two boys had extremely different tastes in clothing. Judging by his pastel pink polo and ripped jeans, Helga guessed that the boy wouldn't dream of borrowing anything from Arnold's closet, which consisted of flannel and dark jeans and plain T-shirts.

"So Helga," Arnie began plainly, "you're coming to Arnold's tonight, right?"

Confused, Helga raised an eyebrow at Arnold, who quickly said, "Well, we're having a New Year's Eve party tonight, and we thought it'd be a nice way to welcome Arnie back since he'll be staying here--"

"_Staying_ here?" Helga interrupted, aghast. "Define _staying here_, Arnoldo."

"I'm moving into the boarding house," Arnie told her. Something in his voice lifted.

The bubbles that boiled in Helga's stomach finally exploded as she stood up at her table, incredulous at this news. "You're _moving in_? Into the _boarding house_? Why--when did--"

"I'll explain it all to you later, Helga," Arnold told her quickly, looking from the approaching Lila back at her. "Just, if you could come tonight--Curly too--that would be great. I'd love to have you."

Helga felt the color rise in her face at his last sentence.

"Who's all gonna be there?" Curly questioned curiously.

"The usual, Gerald, Phoebe, Eugene, Rhonda, Sid--"

"I don't think I can go," Curly said suddenly, his half-smile vanishing.

Helga gave Curly a dark look, which he ignored.

"Why not, Curly?" Arnold asked, disappointed.

Curly glanced at Helga worriedly, who scowled back at him, unwilling to save him with an excuse. Quickly, he thought of one on his own. "I uh--I just remembered that I told my dad I'd uh--do something with him tonight," he finished, sounding less confident than he planned.

"Oh." Arnold frowned as Lila finally reached Curly and Helga's table with their orders.

"Is that all, you guys?" she asked politely, taking out her small notepad again.

"If I wanted _more_, _Li_la, I would have ordered something _besides_ just hot chocolate," Helga snapped.

The redhead smiled weakly, nodding, and then turned to Arnold and his cousin. "What can I get for you?"

"Uh, I'm not really hungry Lila," Arnold began uncomfortably, "so if you could just get Arnie a hot choc--"

"Arnie?!" Lila squealed, nearly dropping her notepad. "I didn't even recognize you! You look ever so amazing, you've grown so much!"

Arnold rolled his eyes and looked at Helga, who scowled horribly and pouted in her seat.

"How long is he visiting?" Lila asked Arnold eagerly.

"He's…staying in Hillwood," Arnold groaned, resting his elbows on the table.

Lila clapped her hands excitedly. "Staying? That news is just ever so wonderful! We'll have to hang out as soon as possible, then! I'm off in just a couple of hours, what do you have planned for tonight?"

"I'm having a party with the whole gang--" Arnold started, but looked at Curly, and then corrected himself, "Well, most of the gang--tonight at my house. Uh, I guess, if you wanted to, you could come over and--"

"That sounds _oh_ too fantastic," Lila said, extremely giddy. She flirtatiously laid a hand on Arnie's shoulder, which he took no note of. "I'll certainly make my way over to the boarding house as soon as I clock out!"

Lila removed her hand slowly from Arnie's shoulder and winked at him as she scurried away from their area. Helga gestured a fake vomit in Curly's direction, but Arnold caught it. He raised a clever eyebrow and turned to Arnie to speak.

"So Arnie…do you think it'll be a good turnout tonight?"

Arnie didn't break his blank stare from his mug. Instead, he watched the heat rise from the beverage intently, leaving Arnold hanging.

"I mean, you know, with everyone I invited--"

"I think it'll be fun," Arnie interrupted him suddenly, finally looking at his cousin.

Arnold shot a nervous look at Helga, who in turn smiled slyly back. Her eyes wandered to the back of the café, where Lila was delicately carrying a tray of drinks and walking with a pep in her steps. Helga sipped her hot chocolate slowly, savoring the rich, warm sensation that flowed into her mouth ass she observed the redheaded waitress. She thought of what kind of game Arnold had in mind, and at the same time decided that if he was as smart as she knew he was, both of them would have an easy time dealing with his weird cousin in the very near new year.

--

It was almost unbearable, how pretty and perfect she was…And it was disgusting. The way her waves of deep red hair cascaded about her creamy white shoulders. The way the brown in her eyes reflected the decorative lights about the living room. The way her black sweater hugged her breasts and slimmed her already lanky figure. All of it was sickening. Even every freckle on her face only sweetened and heightened her level of beauty. Her fingers flew around the sandwich plate in search of an appealing appetizer. Helga watched Lila Sawyer intently, observing closely as she opened her mouth slightly to insert the finger sandwich. She chewed quickly, but with her mouth shut tight. Oh yes, she looked perfect, and it was absolutely nauseating.

"Would you like a finger sandwich, Helga?"

Helga's attention refocused on Phoebe, who held one of the small appetizers in her palm. Shaking her head, Helga laid back on the couch, fixating her gaze again on Lila.

"Are you feeling all right?" Phoebe sighed, eating the finger sandwich herself and scooting closer to her friend.

"I'm fine, Pheebs," Helga told her calmly, staring across the room.

"You've been on this couch not talking to anyone for a long time," Phoebe told her anxiously.

"I'm talking to you right _now_, aren't I?" Helga said, irritated.

Phoebe sighed. "What's wrong? Has Arnie been bothering you?"

Helga groaned, thinking of the scenario that occurred earlier when she first arrived. Arnie didn't even give Arnold a chance to greet her; he immediately led her into his new bedroom, which Helga had no care to see, and began talking to her about his favorite flavors of gum. She fiercely stated what felt like twenty times in five minutes that she didn't care about anything he had to say, but couldn't get an escape until she told him that she desperately had to use the restroom. She'd waited several minutes in there before she emerged, snuck off to Arnold's room, went through his skylight, and crept back to the party downstairs using the stairwell from the roof. Arnold had found her descending that staircase (for he was escaping Lila at that moment) and decided to lead her secretively back into the living room. He returned to the roof, where he now was confronting his cousin about overwhelming the guests.

"You're worried about Curly, aren't you?"

Helga looked curiously at Phoebe, who was now looking across the room at Rhonda and Sid, who were seated next to Lila. Their fingers were entwined.

When Helga said nothing, Phoebe continued, "Do you want to leave, Helga?"

"What for?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Perhaps to check on him? I'm not very sure of how he's handling this…"

Helga shook her head vigorously, sending her blond locks whipping about her face. "He's fine."

"You're sure he's not--"

"Pheebs, listen to me, he's_ fine_," Helga told her sternly, crossing her arms. Maybe if she repeated the phrase in her head, she would believe it herself.

Phoebe sighed and patted her friend's shoulder. "You're sure you don't want a finger sandwich, Helga? Maybe something to drink?"

Helga gave an exasperated sigh and looked hard at her friend. "Pheebs, I don't _want _anything. Really. But if you really wanna help me out, you can go find Arnold for me."

"Arnold? Why--" Phoebe began, but stopped when Helga jerked her head towards the clock. There were barely ten minutes left until midnight.

"Oh. Oh, I see. Okay, I'll be back right away!"

Helga thanked her with a slight smile and searched about the room to make sure no one was paying attention to her. Cautiously, she slipped out of the living area and made her way up the stairs to the bathroom to have a moment alone. While skipping steps to make the journey quicker, she crossed Arnie.

"Hey," he said, sounding drained, but not from any sort of tiredness. "You know, it's almost midnight, Helga."

The girl's stomach lurched. She knew what he was suggesting and the scenes in her imagination made her ill. "Yeah, what's your point?"

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to countdown?" he asked slowly, stepping down so that he was standing beside her.

"I'm going to the _bathroom_, bucko, so get outta my way."

"This is an ever so terrible time to go the bathroom, Helga." Lila's voice came from behind her.

Rather than say anything to reply, Helga scoffed and hurried up the remainder of the staircase, leaving Arnie to deal with whatever Lila was playing at.

_Text me back when you find Arnold_. _I'm in the bathroom_.

Helga stuffed her phone into her back pocket and sank against the bathroom door. Her hands gently made their way inside her bra, grasping the locket which she carried with her at all times for more than half of her life. Delicately, she admired an updated photo of Arnold within its frames. She touched the edges of its heart shape. It seemed so much smaller in size now…

"Oh, Arnold," she began softly, grasping the locket tightly. "Once again, we ring in another new year together, and it's the same as always--you reaching for it like it's the dawn of a better day, and me praying that this will finally be the year that I get what I've been dying for. Every year for the past ten years, I hope to stand next to you while the fireworks explode above our heads and kiss those soft, tender lips…"

A vibration in her pocket interrupted her.

_I found Arnold, hurry downstairs, we're counting down in less than 3 minutes!_

Helga stood up and stared at the locket in her hand. "Here's to hoping this is the year, my love!"

She kissed the face of the locket gently and stored it back down her shirt so that it fit safely and comfortably between her breasts.

Back in the living room, everyone stood as closely as possible to the television set, where the gigantic, glistening ball was clearly displayed on the screen and cheering crowds in New York hollered and hooted in anticipation. The couples in the room were latched onto each other, waiting for the appropriate moment to embrace and celebrate. Arnold's grandparents stood at the back of the room, looking fondly at the teenagers. Pookie had an armful of fireworks and Phil clutched onto several noisemakers.

Helga squeezed her way into the living room, frantically searching for Arnold, but found Phoebe, who appeared nervous.

"Where is he?"

"Helga, I don't think--"

The countdown began. The room quickly erupted with excited jitters and noisemakers and a loud chant of numbers.

"What?"

"Helga, Arnold is--"

_Ten…nine…_

"Arnold's _what_?"

_Eight…seven…_

"He's back there by Eugene and Sheena, but Lila's with him!"

"_Who's_ with him?"

_Six…five…_

"Lila's back there with him! _Lila_!"

_Four…three…_

_Oh no...oh no, no, not Lila...this can't be happening_, Helga thought in a panic, standing on the tips of her toes. Over the heads of her companions, she spotted an uncomfortable Arnold caught on Lila's arm. She was grinning devilishly and glancing back and forth at Arnie, who was staring at Helga. _What the hell is her deal?_

She had to make her way over there. She knew all too well what was going to happen, but she couldn't let it happen. There was no way that her nightmare could come true.

_Two…one…_

…_Shit_.


	12. Faking It

**Beforehand**--I'm so, so very sorry about the delay. I promise this story isn't dead! I've just been so busy starting college and going through the motions. It is my every intention to finish the tale of our favorite gang's freshman year, it's just going to take a long while at this rate. This might be the last chapter that I'll upload for a while, so savor it for the time being! Thanks for all the feedback and for taking the time out of your busy schedules to give this a read. I hope I don't let you guys down. Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMAH**: AllcharactersandwhatnotsmentionedinthisstorybelongtoCraigBartlettmeaningnoneofitsmine.

**Chapter 12**: Faking It

When Helga Pataki gets hurt, she doesn't cry. She doesn't complain or mope around. She doesn't moan or whine about the pain, no matter how much stings or burns inside. She makes up an excuse for being in a bitchier mood than usual and goes about her business like nothing is wrong. She knows better than to show weakness. She knows that once you show weakness, people jump on you like hungry beasts diving into a freshly caught carcass--only instead of attacking you with razor-sharp teeth, they smother you with hugs and kisses and whispers of "it'll be okay." Not like this is particularly unpleasant to Helga, but she'd just rather not be lied to.

So when rumors started to fly around the school about Arnold and Lila's random hookup at his New Year's Eve party, she ignored it. She actually even pretended for the first couple of days that she hadn't seen it happen, or even heard about it. But being friends with Rhonda meant that you were automatically caught up on all of the gossip, whether you liked it or not, and the dirt on the Football Head was the hottest topic of the week.

"I don't see why everyone's so excited about it, actually," Rhonda said blandly from her perch on her queen-sized bed. She had one of those toe-separators wedged in between each digit on her foot as she carefully applied a coral colored polish to the nails. Wednesdays were the only acceptable days for Rhonda to wear shades of pink.

"I mean, it's not like they're dating yet or anything," she continued, blowing her raven hair out of her eyes.

"What do you mean, _yet_?" Helga asked sourly, looking up from her creative writing guide.

Rhonda looked up at her with reproachful eyes. "I mean, he doesn't like her for sure, right?"

"How the hell should _I_ know?"

"I don't know, I hardly talk to Arnold these days, what with all that business with _My BFF's Wedding _or whatever that play's called--"

"Play practice doesn't last _forever_, Princess," Helga told her, nosing back into the guide.

"I just meant that you talk to him more than I do," Rhonda said defensively, lowering her voice. "So if he was interested in being with her, you would probably know, wouldn't you?"

Helga looked back down at the guide and thought. Rhonda might be right, but then again, if it concerned Lila, Arnold might not speak up about it. Not to _her_, anyway, since he knew how much she loathed her.

"Do you know how Curly's doing?" Rhonda asked quietly, focusing on her toenails.

"Do you _care_?" Helga asked in turn, speed-reading the guide.

Rhonda looked up at her and furrowed her brow. "What makes you think I don't?"

"The fact that you and Sid can't keep your lips off each other kinda--"

"Oh _please_, Helga, Sid has nothing to do with that," Rhonda interrupted her, offended. "I love how you _always_ make it seem like I'm so damn selfish and heartless."

Helga shut her book and looked at her friend almost reproachfully. "Well, you _are_ selfish. But not completely heartless."

"So have you heard from Curly?"

Truthfully, Helga hadn't gotten any calls from Curly since Arnold's New Year's party. She hadn't even seen him in school, and it wasn't until just then that she began to worry.

"We should go see if he's home…"

--

Arnold remembered why he didn't like hospitals. The atmosphere was too unnerving, too unsettling; like there was something to fear around every corner. Not like ghouls or monsters, more like diseases, hurt, pain; things you knew for a fact were real and terrible, lurking everywhere. It was like the white walls were ready to close in on every side of him. Whenever a nurse or doctor hurried past, a stale scent crept into his nostrils; it smelled of some cleaning product, something abnormally strong. He wondered to himself, on the way to Curly's room, if that was what death smelled like.

A tall, blonde nurse with round glasses greeted him and Gerald and Rhonda and Helga at Curly's door. Her voice was soft but stern as she told the teens that their friend couldn't have company at the moment.

"But--what if he needs us?" Rhonda whimpered. She clutched Helga's arm. Helga flinched.

"I'm sorry, he can't take any visitors now," the nurse told them finally. Before she turned the knob, Gerald spoke.

"Can you at least tell us what happened to him?"

The nurse looked at Gerald, hard, as if he should already know. Her blue eyes blinked a couple of times, and averted to the ground. A minute or two passed before she looked at Gerald again, and sighed.

"We're preparing to pump his stomach right now."

Rhonda whined and blubbered, asking why that was necessary.

Another sigh came from the nurse. "Your friend in there swallowed an entire container of vitamins."

--

"I can't believe he tried to kill himself with _pills_!"

"They were _vitamins_, Rhonda."

"But he swallowed a whole _container_ of them!"

"So? No way he could die from eating too many freakin' vitamins."

"You can die from eating too much of _anything_!"

"Why would he kill himself with _vitamins_? _Wally_ vitamins, nonetheless."

"You're missing the _point_ here, Gerald! Curly tried to kill himself!"

"Come on Rhonda, if he really wanted to do that, don't you think he'd wanna go out in _style_?"

"Gerald, please, you're not helping."

"I'm just saying."

"Curly's effing crazy, do you think he was _thinking_ straight when he did this?"

"What does it matter? He still _tried_!"

"Will you just chill out, Rhonda?"

"_No_! How can you tell me to chill out when it's _my_ fault that he did this?"

"Rhonda, you don't know that."

"Yes I do, it's all because of me!"

Rhonda went back to sobbing into her hands while Gerald shook his head. Arnold sighed, exasperated, and looked helplessly at Helga. The blonde girl was rubbing Rhonda's back as she bawled and wailed and blubbered about treating Curly poorly again.

"Maybe if I didn't tell him we should stop seeing each other--m-maybe if I didn't let anyone find out I hooked up with Sid--he--he wouldn't have--"

"Whatever, Rhonda," Gerald interrupted. "People were gonna find out about you and Sid, you know that. No such thing as secrets in this place."

Removing her face from her hands, Rhonda snapped, "Not if people knew how to keep their mouths shut."

"Maybe if you didn't have to show off everything you hold in your possession, including man candy--"

"Oh, shut up, Gerald!" Rhonda wailed and buried her face back in her hands. Helga stopped rubbing her back.

"Gerald, that was a little harsh," Arnold told him quietly.

"It's the truth, man!" Gerald told him, heated.

Rhonda spat out some phrases that couldn't be understood and cried even harder, then Helga spoke. "Point is, Curly's gonna be fine. All they gotta do is finish the surgery and he'll be okay. No big deal."

"He obviously _wanted _to kill himself, though, Helga," Arnold told her. "That's the real point, whether he was aware that he couldn't die that way or not--"

"Obviously not," Gerald murmured, but Arnold continued.

"Doesn't matter. I think Curly might need some help, this is a really serious situation here."

"What are we gonna do, send him back to his aunt?" Gerald asked skeptically.

"No way is he gonna wanna leave _us_ again," Helga said sternly.

"We've just gotta be there for him and help him get over Rhonda," Arnold said calmly and confidently, watching as Rhonda pulled herself upright in her seat.

"So you agree, it's all my fault, right?" she sniffled.

"It's not your fault, Rhonda," Arnold told her. His tone was convincing. "But Curly's feelings for you are just too dangerous for him to handle. If watching you date someone else is enough to drive him to suicide, then maybe it's time he gets some real psychiatric help."

"What're you suggesting, Arnoldo?" Helga questioned, fearing for the answer.

"I was thinking when we got on the bus that maybe you should recommend him to Dr. Bliss," Arnold replied seriously. "You said she keeps you sane, maybe she can do the same for Curly."

Helga leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. She peered out the window, taking note of the full moon and the clear, starry sky. She sighed, feeling an emptiness in her lungs as she exhaled.

"I'll talk to him about it."

Arnold grinned, satisfied, and then took his turn in rubbing Rhonda's back. "Curly's gonna be fine, Rhonda. We're gonna get him some help. It's not your fault."

Rhonda stopped crying as soon as the bus arrived on her street. She hugged Helga and waved at Arnold and Gerald and slung her purse over her shoulder. Gerald shook his head as he watched her step off.

"Lucky he didn't choose to swallow a container of his prescription drugs."

--

"I thought I was too late. When his dad told me he was at the hospital. I never saw Curly's dad cry. I thought he might've been dead already. I almost told Rhonda that we shouldn't go, but she made me."

"Are you glad you went?"

"Well, duh, I mean, I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I wasn't sure if he was…okay or not."

"So what happened when you got to the hospital?"

"We found his room but some nurse told us that he wasn't taking visitors."

"How long did you stay there?"

"About an hour, I guess. They were doing surgery and didn't say how long it'd take. I was sick of hearing Rhonda bawl her eyes out, so I convinced the guys to go home on the bus with us."

"Why was Rhonda crying so much? I thought she didn't like Curly anymore."

"She just feels guilty."

"Because she feels that he did this because he can't have her."

"Nailed it, Doc."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"The only reason Rhonda was so upset was because she felt guilty."

"So?"

"Does that bother you?"

"I wouldn't expect Rhonda to feel anything else."

"You don't think she cares about him?"

"No. Not enough, anyway."

"Wouldn't you feel guilty if you were Rhonda?"

"I wouldn't treat someone so bad that it'd drive him to attempt suicide."

"That's a pretty strong statement, Helga."

"I have a pretty strong _opinion_, Doc."

"Well, then what about Curly? What do you think about _his_ actions?"

"After Gerald said something on the bus, I thought it over. I think Curly planned it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he pulled a fast one on us."

"Elaborate, please."

"Are you _deaf_? I mean Curly did it on purpose!"

"Helga, he deliberately put himself in a position where he might die."

"Oh _please_, do you think a guy who _really_ wanted to kill himself would down a bottle of _Wally vitamins _when there's a cabinet full of drugs to overdose on? No. He knew he wasn't gonna die. He timed it just right, he made sure his dad found him at the right time. He knew he'd make it. He just did it for attention. He planned it perfectly. All he wanted was for Rhonda to pay attention to him, and he got it."

"So what's going on between them now?"

"Rhonda took him out somewhere last night. I guess she's still got guilt gut."

"Did you tell her what you think about Curly's actions?"

"If she's not smart enough to figure it out for herself, I'm not telling her _shit_."

--

Snow day. Helga read the text message from Phoebe that confirmed they had a day off, and slid back under the covers. She tried for a few minutes to go back to sleep, but all she could think about was Curly and his scheme to win Rhonda back. Half of her mind told her to tell him off, to let him know that she knew was he was up to, to make him face the fact that his plan wasn't going to work. The other half wondered if she herself would react the same way if Arnold started going out with Lila. But faking suicide to score pity dates? That just didn't sound appealing. If she was going to have Arnold spend time with her, she wouldn't want it to be because he felt guilty about not returning feelings. How could Curly deal with it?

"Because he's so desperate to have Rhonda that he'll take anything from her, no matter the reason why she's giving it," Phoebe explained later that day. Helga was home alone, so she invited her over and decided to fill her in about Curly's most dramatic stunt to date.

"It sounds all too familiar," Helga muttered between sips of coffee.

"Helga, I'll admit that you've resorted to desperate actions to get Arnold's attention, but you've never done anything remotely as drastic as this."

"I'm afraid, Pheebs," Helga said blandly, staring out into space.

"Helga, you don't have to be," Phoebe told her sweetly, reaching across the table for her hand. Her arm was too short.

"Look at what I've done in the past, Pheebs," Helga started. "I risked my life for Arnold once, what if…"

"Don't say that Helga," Phoebe squeaked. "You wouldn't deliberately…"

"What if I resort to something like faking some freak accident to get him to pay attention to me?" she asked rhetorically. She was too absorbed in these thoughts that she'd forgotten Phoebe was there.

"Helga, Curly has a serious problem," Phoebe reminded her. "There is something very wrong with him and the way he handles his--"

"I have the _same_ problem!" Helga yelped, finally looking at her friend. "I'm just as obsessed about someone as he is, how can you say that there's something wrong with Curly and then tell me that I'm fine?! I'm not fine, Phoebe! How am I different from Curly? Please, enlighten me! Tell me how I'm different!"

Phoebe looked at a spot on the table, and then reached for her coffee mug. After a long sip, Phoebe closed her eyes and breathed. "Because you're in love."

--

Arnold called Helga later that afternoon to see if she had any plans for the snow day. As expected, she went on about him calling her at inconvenient times and that she did, in fact, have plans for that day, but practicing for the play was important enough for her to cancel them and that she would be at his house around dinner time. When they hung up, Arnold guessed that she really didn't have any plans and just didn't want to sound too eager to spend with him, but this didn't bother him much. He dug his script out of the bottom of his book bag; he hadn't touched it since they returned to school after their time off. It was getting to the point where he didn't need to look at it very much, which was a good thing.

Helga arrived promptly at five twenty-five, just as the sun was setting.

"You're just in time," Arnold told her sweetly upon opening the door.

"For what, your grandma's barbeque?" Helga suggested sarcastically, hanging her coat on the rack.

"She's grilling burgers on the roof," Arnold confirmed, shrugging. "Dinner should be ready soon, so do you just wanna hang out in the living room until--"

"Sure, sure, whatever you want, Arnoldo," Helga cut him off and strutted into the empty living room, parking herself in the loveseat and wondering if Arnold would sit in it with her.

He did.

"Helga…listen," Arnold began calmly, edging closer to her. He felt a slight quiver in her arm as his body touched next to hers on the couch. "I know I asked you to come here to practice, but…"

He only meant it to be comforting. Slowly, he took Helga's ghostly white hand in his own and grasped it tightly. She met eyes with him immediately, a familiar glow entering their blue hue. This was no time to think anything of it, though.

"I know you're freaking out about Curly, and I just want you to know, if you need to talk about it, you can always--"

"That's really creepily nice of you, _Football_ Head," Helga began, yanking her hand away, "but I'm fine. I don't need to talk about anything."

"You're sure? Because you're acting especially bitter," Arnold pointed out, massaging his own hand. It surprised him, how quickly she pulled away.

"Newsflash. I'm _always_ bitter, _Arnoldo_, and Curly's suicide act is not the reason for it," she told him, crossing her arms.

Arnold raised one eyebrow. "Act?"

"You heard me."

Arnold shifted in his seat. "You're saying he did it on purpose?"

"Duh, it took you longer than five minutes to figure it out?"

A knot in the pit of Arnold's stomach began to form. "Helga…how can you be--"

"Curly downed a bottle of vitamins _right_ before his dad came into the kitchen to make dinner--he planted himself right _there_ so that his dad would immediately take him to the hospital so the doctors could pump his stomach in the nick of _time_. Plus, there was a whole stash of medication he could have chose from, right in his bathroom, and he chose _Wally vitamins_. Think about it, Arnoldo."

Arnold imagined Curly shoving thirty of those tiny blue tablets down his throat and making a scene in front of his father, choking on pleas to take him to the emergency room. Helga's proposition made perfect sense, and truthfully, no one would put it past Curly to pull a stunt like that for attention. Especially attention from Rhonda Lloyd.

"Did you tell Rhonda?"

"Criminey, how _stupid_ do you think I am?" Helga said, heated. "Rhonda would probably never talk to him again if she knew he did it on purpose!"

"So it's better that she wallows in guilt?"

"Better than Curly killing himself for _real_."

The knot in Arnold's stomach tightened almost painfully. Helga was right; losing Rhonda would be the last straw for Curly, and if he was crazy enough to fake a suicide attempt, he would definitely be crazy enough to do it for real. With a sigh, Arnold closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them slowly to look at Helga seriously.

"Helga, Curly has to see a doctor."

"So go tell him to, genius," she said bluntly, staring back coldly.

"You said you were going to talk to him about it," he reminded her.

"It's not that easy," Helga said quietly, looking at the wall instead of at him.

"Helga, he trusts you the most, you should be the one to do this. It's for the better."

"He's not gonna want to."

"It's not as hard as you're making it seem, all you have to do is--"

"What, Arnold? What?" she retorted, snapping her eyes back on him. "Just tell him, 'Curly, your obsession with Rhonda is way outta hand, go talk to some shrink about it'? Is _that_ what I'm supposed to do? Tell him he's crazy?"

"He's not crazy, Helga," Arnold said slowly. His ability to remain so calm when she was yelling at him amazed even himself. "He just needs some help to get his emotions under control."

"And he needs a _shrink_ to do that, right?"

"You got a better idea?"

"No."

"Then convince him to start sessions with Dr. Bliss. Unless you'd rather wonder every day from now on if today's the day he's finally gonna do it."

--

Helga spent the following Wednesday night at the Lloyd's residence, as per usual. As soon as she told Rhonda that Curly had begun therapy for his erratic behavior, she calmed herself immediately. The guilt was still in her system, because she had been wondering out loud what to bring Curly for lunch the following day, but Helga insisted that he was going to be fine. She thought that perhaps, if she kept saying it out loud, it would come true.

"I must say, Helga," Rhonda began telling her in the bathroom, "I've underestimated your persuasive skills. How long did it take you to convince him to do it?"

"Just one punch, actually," Helga told her bluntly, flipping through a magazine. "After I told him he'd do it if he knew what was good for him. I said I'd kill him myself before he could ever think about suicide again."

"So he's starting session with Dr. Bliss now?"

"Today's their first meeting," Helga replied plainly.

"She's the same doctor you go to," Rhonda stated, waiting to be affirmed.

"Yes, _Princess_," Helga said, narrowing her eyes. "She's the same one."

Rhonda dipped a cotton ball in a small cup of baby oil and rubbed it over her eyes to remove the black liner. Application of makeup or makeup remover usually meant a change in the conversation.

"I guess Arnold convinced you to talk him into it."

Helga laid the magazine down in her lap. "What?"

"I remember him suggesting it to you on the bus home from the hospital."

"Yeah, so?"

"What _else_ did he talk to you about, hm?" Rhonda asked, changing her tone of voice.

"If this is about _Lila_--"

"Come on, Helga!" she burst, throwing her arms in the air. "If you know something about them, you have to tell me!"

"Why is it any of _your _concern who Arnold's dating?"

"It's not Arnold's romantic life that I'm interested in, it's Lila's," she corrected, reverting back to the mirror. She began plucking her eyebrows.

"What the hell for?"

"Because, she's been fooling around with Arnie, and if Arnold is interested in her, this could turn into a juicy catastrophe."

"You just love _drama_, don't you?" Helga grunted.

"How many years have you known me, Helga?" Rhonda joked.

Helga sighed, but thought about Lila and Arnie. If Arnold _was interested in Miss Perfect, there could be some serious problems…_

"_You said Lila's with Arnie?"_

_Rhonda shrugged. "I've seen them together a lot lately. Nadine told me she caught them making out under one of the stairwells yesterday."_

"_Do you think Arnold knows?"_

"_No, I don't think any of the boys do, because they're all flirting with her anyway. I'm sure they'd back off if they knew she kind of had someone."_

_Helga bit her lip. She felt the outline of a scheme mapping out inside her brain._

"_Do you think we could keep it that way?"_

_Rhonda turned to the blonde, tweezers still in hand. "What are you suggesting?"_

"_How good of a friend are you, Rhonda?" Helga asked sincerely, leaning forward in the chair. Rhonda, in turn, knelt down in front of her on the floor._

"_Good enough to keep a secret."_


	13. This Is So Law & Order

Beforehand--I spit out this chapter quicker than I had imagined I would, which is good. I've been having some personal issues with college lately--I seemed to have developed a love/hate relationship with my classes. I'm such a procrastinator; I write this fic instead of my essays! I hope to adjust better to the college life and I appreciate your patience with me and my slow updates. I hope they will come faster as I learn to utilize my time better. Thank you again for taking the time to read and especially to review. I've gotten much better feedback than I thought I would and I'm happy to be contributing something to this wonderful fandom. I really enjoy writing this fic and I hope you all are enjoying reading it.

By the way, editing the chapter was a pain--does anyone know why there is such a small space in the editing option once you upload the story? It's really agitating to go back and manually remove all of the codes that aren't needed. Help is greatly appreciated if you know what I'm talking about. If not, I hope I can find some way to fix it. Anyway, enjoy loves.

**DISCLAIMAH**: ThisisallCraigBarlett's,meaningnoneofthesecharactersaremine.

**Chapter 13**: This Is So Law & Order

_January 19th_, 2003

_Curly's been seeing Dr. Bliss for a week or so, and I'm already noticing a change in his disposition. He's still eccentric and outgoing, but it looks like he's a lot calmer and less irrational. He and Rhonda seem to have made peace--he was talking to me yesterday about how he wants to meet other girls, and Gerald managed to set him up on a date with someone from the chess club. I guess Sid and Rhonda can be more open about their relationship now. I think he and Curly are talking more too, which is really good._

_Helga seems a lot calmer too, lately. I talked to her after play practice yesterday and she seems pretty happy for Curly and for Rhonda, but there's something weird. It's almost like she's _too calm. I have no idea what it could be, but I have this gut feeling that something's up. I wish she would just talk to me about things. It's not like I haven't been there for her before.

_Lila's been especially warm to me this past week--it's weird, I thought she liked Arnie, but they hardly talk about each other now, let alone ever seen together. I guess watching Lila kiss me on New Year's was enough to turn Arnie completely off to her. It's a little strange, since I swore I wasn't gonna waste my time on her again, but ever since New Year's, I've been thinking about her. Whenever we talk, I get that bubble in my stomach, just like I used to when we were twelve. Gerald told me to just go with the flow, and not to get myself into anything just yet, because Lila's really fickle, but I can't help but wonder if I should ask her out soon. I mean, that Valentine's Day dance is coming up soon_…

--

Hillwood High's basketball team faced Woodbury the last Friday in January. The Wildcats were their biggest rivals, so missing that game was not an option. Everyone Arnold knew planned on riding the Spirit Bus to and from Woodbury High to watch the face-off, including Lila and his cousin. To his surprise, the redhead invited him to sit by her on the way there.

"Aren't you sitting with Arnie?" Arnold asked her before he sat down.

"Oh, no, Arnie's not even here yet," Lila told him through a smile.

"Actually, Lila, he's getting on the bus right now," Arnold pointed out, watching his cousin make his way down the aisle.

"Oh, he won't mind, just take a seat, Arnold," she said, patting the cushion.

Arnold was careful not to meet his cousin's gaze as he felt him brush past and sit down by a girl whose name he didn't know. Even if they didn't like each other now, they still used to, and he and Arnie were cousins, so it had to be at least a little awkward. For Arnold, anyway.

"Why ever should he mind anyway, though, Arnold?" Lila prodded, curious.

"Oh, well, I just thought that--" Arnold started, unaware of the proper way to explain it, but tried, "I mean, when he first came back, you seemed really interested in--"

"Oh, don't be silly Arnold," Lila giggled, lightly touching his arm. He shivered slightly.

--

Helga took care to make sure she sat near enough to Lila on the Spirit Bus. The blonde parked herself two seats behind her and Arnold, observing their body language. She would have been right behind them if Rhonda hadn't been late, but Stinky and Sid were in that spot, eavesdropping for the girls.

"Who's Arnie sitting with?" Rhonda asked lowly, glancing behind her.

"Some bimbo, I don't know," Helga hissed, staring ahead. She saw Lila toss her head back, laughing, and felt her stomach lurch.

"Do you think Arnie's mad?"

"Of course Arnie's _mad_, his cousin's sitting pretty close to his girl," Helga said quietly, looking over her shoulder. Arnie wasn't exactly fuming, since the girl he was sitting by wasn't exactly ugly, but the darkness in his eyes gave away his jealousy.

Rhonda reached over the seat to touch Sid's shoulder. He yelped and she shushed him.

"What are they talking about?" she whispered into his ear.

"Nothing special, but Lila told him she isn't seeing Arnie," Sid informed her quietly.

"Golden," Helga murmured, smirking at Rhonda.

"How long do you think she can play it off?"

"I think we underestimate Little Miss Perfect," Helga said thoughtfully. "She's gotta be a con artist."

"I just never believed her to be a cheater," Rhonda said, unconvinced.

"Well that's the genius," Helga snapped. "Why do you think you never hear about her _dating_ anyone, _Princess_?"

Rhonda raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. "So what you're saying is--"

"She sticks to the FWB method," Stinky finished for her.

"What?"

"Friends With Benefits," Sid cleared up.

Stinky nodded. "It's so's she don't get called a cheater. She don't ever call herself anyone's girlfriend so she can do whatever she wants, but she keeps it all a secret. Most o' the guys she messes with don't know each other."

"So you're calling her a slut," Helga said bluntly, incredulous.

"Garsh no," Stinky said, bewildered. "She's too much of a lady to put her hands anywhere the sun don't shine."

"Then she's still stringing more than one guy along at a time!" Helga remarked, glancing angrily ahead.

"How are you so familiar with her tactics, though?" Rhonda breathed in wonderment, ignoring Helga's comment.

"It's on account'a she did it to me," Stinky sighed, frowning. "I was seeing her for a week or two in the summer, until one day she bailed on our picnic and I caught her with some boy I ain't never seen before. They was at the park kissing by the swings; I saw 'em when Sid and I was playing catch. I called her later that day and told her I wanted the title, just to see what shed say, and she told me she wasn't looking to be nothing official with anyone."

Helga swallowed, hard. If Stinky was that bummed about Lila, she could only fathom how Arnold would feel. As much as she hated to admit it, Arnold liked her more than anyone else ever did.

"We never talked to anybody about it, because we figured it'd start drama," Sid added. "We knew what kinda rumors would spread, and we didn't wanna make a mess of something that wouldn't ever get cleaned up."

"Well, whether she's touching them or not, it's still wrong of her," Rhonda hissed. "So you think she's planning to play Arnold the same way?"

"It could be," Stinky told her.

"Totally not gonna happen," Sid said to them.

"I really just can't believe she's so…" Rhonda started, glancing ahead at the redhead and Arnold, then finished, "…conniving."

"You can't spell _Li_la without '_lie_,'" Helga said more to herself than to her friend. Rolling her shoulders and leaning back against the bus seat, Helga flared her nostrils and averted her gaze out the window. She couldn't afford to let this plan fail.

--

Hillwood beat Woodbury by about twenty points. After much cheering and hollering and noise-making, Arnold followed his friends back onto the Spirit Bus, but he wasn't in as much of a hype as the rest of them were--well, not for the same reason as they were.

Arnold just thought that he'd humor her; just sit next to her on the way to the game, talking small talk until they arrived and then join Gerald and the boys. He tried not to look into her eyes when he spoke to her, not to inhale her heavenly scent of apple and cinnamon, not to swoon at the soothing sound of her voice, but failed almost miserably. It was as if she lassoed him about the torso and pulled him closer, dragging him along the entire night, and he didn't bother to struggle free of her grasp. There was no use fighting it anymore, he admitted as he sat next to her in the darkness. His hand was entwined with hers. _Here we go again_, he chuckled to himself. Lila rested her head on his shoulder as soon as the bus shifted in gear. He didn't shrug her off. He didn't want to.

--

"There's something really weird about this," Helga snorted, pacing about her bedroom in her nightgown. The dark liner was smudged around her eyes, making her face comparable to a raccoon's. It was late, past midnight, and she kept rubbing her face to stay awake.

"What's weird?" Phoebe asked, sitting Indian style on the floor next to the bed. A couple of small notebooks lay open at her feet, and she kept poking different colored pens in and out of her mouth. She made that gesture often when thinking of problem.

"It just doesn't add up!" Helga groaned, running her hands in her hair and messing it up even worse than it was.

"What are you talking about, Helga?" Phoebe said louder, taking the pen out of her mouth.

"I _mean_ this Arnold and Arnie thing!" Helga started, frustrated. She walked to the window, huffed and puffed, and then walked back towards Phoebe and groaned. "She's being _stupid_, she's fooling around with two guys who live under the same _roof_, it just doesn't make sense!"

"Maybe she's not," Phoebe said plainly, jotting down something in one of the notebooks.

"What?" Helga barked.

"What if she ended whatever it was with Arnie to pursue Arnold?" she suggested, finishing scribbling something and then looking up at Helga.

Helga contorted her face and shook her head. "No way, I _know_ she's still seeing Arnie! Rhonda said she saw them together the other night!"

"What if she stopped between now and then?"

"No _way_, Pheebs!"

"You just don't want to admit a possible flaw in your plan," Phoebe told her, writing something else in the notebook.

"Whatever, I know they still have something going on, Arnie looked way too pissed at the game for it to be over," Helga growled, finally sitting on the bed.

"Maybe he's just bitter about it ending."

"It _can't_ be over with them…" Helga whined, scratching at her face.

"Don't do that, Helga, your nails are getting too long."

"Dammit Pheebs, this ruins everything," Helga complained, ignoring her friend's concern. Peeling her fingers off her face, she left white marks where her nails dug in. "She's not stupid enough to see two guys that _talk_ to each other--let alone are _related_," the blonde moaned, laying back on the bed.

"Why don't you ask Arnie about the situation?" Phoebe suggested.

Helga gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah _right_, a lotta good talking to _him_ will do."

"Well, if you refuse to do so, Helga, you'll be missing some crucial knowledge."

Before Helga had a chance to retaliate, her cell phone rang from its spot on her vanity.

"Who the hell--"

Rhonda's voice came in on the other end. "I have good news and bad news."

"Oh, great," Helga grunted. "Bad first, Princess…"

"Arnie isn't in the game anymore," Rhonda droned, confirming Helga's fear.

"Dammit!"

"What did I tell you?" Phoebe said from her spot on the floor. She took note of this newfound information.

"Wait, wait," Rhonda said hurriedly, talking quietly. "I still have good news."

"What can possibly--"

"We may have another pawn to play with," she said excitedly.

--

It was a blurry photograph. Helga asked twice if the girl in the far right corner was indeed Lila, and Rhonda confirmed it three times. After a few moments of staring, she realized that the red hair and pale complexion was unmistakably hers. The boy in the photo, however, was foreign to her eyes.

"Who _is_ that guy?" Helga questioned curiously, studying the tall, lanky frame and dark locks.

"I have no idea," Rhonda sighed, exasperated. "Nadine took the picture and said she'd never seen him before. Point is, it was taken yesterday afternoon, _right before _the game, and she looks fairly cuddly with that boy."

Helga wrinkled her nose at the way Lila held the boy's arm in the picture. The thought of her holding Arnold's that way put a nasty taste in her mouth.

"Well, I guess now we find out who the hell this guy is, find out when Lila sees him, and make sure she keeps seeing Arnold in the meantime."

"And if that turns out right, perhaps we can manage to get the three of them in the same place at the same time," Phoebe said thoughtfully.

"We'll do that as soon as we find out this guy's _deal_, but first we gotta find out who the hell he _is_," Helga said.

"Fine by me, but how are you gonna do that?" Rhonda asked. "Show that picture to everyone we know?"

"Only need to show one person," Helga said slyly.

--

"…Then again, she has a few good traits."

"Gimme like, eight and nine off the top ten list."

"First girl I ever knew who lets me give her a bath," he grinned madly at her, just as the script ordered, and she smirked back.

"And when I hug her, even in public, I don't have to let go right away. She lets me hold her as long as I want."

She looked at the floor, then at the wall, and then back at him.

"Nice kid, don't you think?" he asked her. He waited a good twenty seconds for her reply. The script called for that pause.

"Looks like, from here…" she didn't sound as convincing as she was supposed to.

"Wanna take a break?"

Arnold had been over several scenes with Helga a dozen times that day. He was far from bored, however, his head had been exceptionally dizzy for a few hours, and thought it best to relax for a little while. Helga didn't snap at him as he expected her to, but simply nodded her head and plopped her body onto the red couch.

"You're doing really great, Helga," Arnold told her cheerily, sitting slowly on the edge of his bed.

"You're doing pretty all right yourself, _Football _Head," she said after thirty seconds or so, not looking in his direction.

"I haven't used my script all day," he went on, smiling to himself.

"Yeah, I _noticed_," she said.

"You did?"

"_Criminey_, I only went over scenes and stage directions with you today," she raised her voice, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"Sorry," Arnold said.

"No problem, Captain _Obvious_."

"What's up with you, Helga?" he asked calmly, laying back.

"What do you mean, _what's up with me_? Does it _look_ like something's up?" There she went, getting all defensive about absolutely nothing.

"I mean what's going _on_ with you," Arnold restated patiently. "I haven't really talked to you about anything besides the play lately."

"_So_?"

"So, how are you doing?"

"Why do _you_ care?"

"Fine, Helga, if you don't wanna tell me anything, it's okay."

"Why do you always do that?"

Arnold lifted his head to look at her from across the room. "Do what?"

She didn't lift her head to look back, but replied, "That stupid guilt trip thing you do!"

"I don't put anyone on guilt trips," he said, knowing that she was right. He just wanted her to explain.

"Yeah you do, anytime someone doesn't wanna tell you something, you find your way into it anyway because you're all like, 'Fine, you don't have to tell me. But you know I'm here to talk to, in case you need me. I _care_. I wanna know. Blah blah blah.' You _always_ do that!"

Arnold chuckled. "So?"

He heard her sit upright on the couch. "If you really wanna _know_ about my life so badly, it's _boring_. It's the same old shit, every day, nothing new, nothing exciting, and nothing to anticipate but this damn _play _coming up in April. Everything is shitty and nothing ever changes. There, you happy now that you know 'what's going on'?"

Arnold didn't say anything for a minute or two. He could hear Helga's intake of breath to say something across the room, but he cut her off. "Is _everything_ really shitty? Everything?"

No response. There was another intake of breath from her, but he cut her off again. "Not everything can be shitty, Helga. There's gotta be _at least _one good thing going for you. Actually, I know for a fact there are a _few_ of them."

"Oh really?" Finally, a reaction. "Name them."

"When you said that, did you think of Phoebe?"

Silence. Obviously not. He smirked to himself.

"Or Rhonda?"

Not.

"Or Curly? Or the play? Or your grades? I know they're good, Helga. You're always beating me at tests and projects. You're really smart."

Still silence on her end. She didn't know how to take compliments, not from him. He smiled, sitting up slowly, seeing that she had laid back down on the couch. To avoid looking at him as he said all this.

"No matter what's _shitty_ in your life, you have some really important things that are always good to you. If you _really_ lost sight of them, you wouldn't be here now. You wouldn't have the will to carry on if you _really_ thought that everything was shitty."

As soon as he laid back down, he heard her sit upright again.

"Would you mind telling me how the _hell_ you find it in yourself to say this shit to me?"

"Because I know you're smarter than to believe some of the things you say."

Silence on her end again.

--

_Eddie Gordo. Age seventeen as of January twelfth, 2003. Brown hair, blue eyes. Five feet and eleven inches tall. Olive skin. Freckles. Birth mark on left shoulder. Junior at Woodbury High School. Married parents; one older brother. Baseball player. Favorite color is red._

Helga read the information on the tiny card given to her by Fuzzy Slippers at least twelve times before studying the Polaroid of Lila and the boy. _Five feet and eleven inches_. Lila was five foot four, and the boy she was standing next to certainly appeared to be at least seven inches taller than her. He had brown hair, like the info card had stated, but she couldn't tell from the photo what color his eyes were. The birth mark on his left shoulder was clearly visible, though, due to the wife beater he was wearing. His skin was indeed olive, and his arms were definitely freckled.

"You're _sure_ this boy is Eddie?" Rhonda asked for the fiftieth time that afternoon.

"I showed Fuzzy Slippers the picture and he gave me that card within an hour," Helga told her through gritted teeth. "It's Fuzzy freakin' Slippers, he's never wrong."

"How does _he_ know that's him?"

Phoebe looked up from her notebook. "It's actually quite simple, Rhonda. You see, Fuzzy Slippers probably scanned the photo on his computer, cleared it using a certain program, and identified the boy by comparing profiles on the Internet."

"Really now? And that's accurate?" Rhonda breathed, in awe.

"He probably was able to determine what school he attends by checking the profile he found--_and_ by zooming in on the jockey shorts he's wearing," Phoebe continued, setting her notebook down and walking over to the table. She took the Polaroid from Helga and examined it. Pointing at a small white spot on the boy's shorts, she said, "See that white spot? By clearing the image, Fuzzy was able to reveal it as a Wildcat head, Woodbury's mascot."

"Nadine got lucky," Rhonda said, taking the photo in her hands and squinting at the white spot. "Would he still have been able to identify him if he hadn't been wearing this?"

"Like I told you before, Rhonda," Phoebe said, "Fuzzy used that program to scan through profiles on the Net and got a match. The fact that he was wearing his school crest just gives us further assurance that it's him."

"So what now?" Rhonda asked, looking from Phoebe to Helga.

Helga rolled her eyes and huffed. As she spoke, she counted off her fingers on her right hand. "Find out where he hangs out, who he's friends with, how he met Lila, how long he's been seeing her, and who he knows from our school."

"And exactly _how_ do you plan to do that?" Rhonda questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Find out the next time he'll be with Miss Perfect," Helga answered plainly.

"You mean, like, stalk him?"

"Basically," Phoebe said.

"This is _ab_solutely ridiculous," Rhonda said, crossing her arms.

"_You_ don't have to tail him, but _I'm_ going to," Helga said. "I'll do all the hard stuff. All you have to do is talk to Lila when I tell you to."

"Talk to her about wha--"

"Don't _worry_ about it yet, Criminey!" Helga snapped. "Phoebe, stop by the Electric Company tomorrow after school--we're gonna need some equipment. Rhonda, I'm gonna tell you exactly what to say to Lila as soon as I see you tomorrow. Got it?"

Phoebe nodded and Rhonda rolled her eyes. "This is _so_ Law and Order..."

--

It was five minutes past six. Helga shifted in her hiding spot behind the extravagant plant in the dining room at Chez Paris, eyeing the table in front of her. The floor was all she was able to see.

_Dammit, she told Rhonda six sharp_, Helga thought furiously, glaring at her cell phone. Seven minutes past six. A grunt erupted from Helga's throat. Suddenly, the screen of her cell phone lit up. Rhonda sent her a text message.

_Targets sighted. I see them from the window. Start recording when they sit down._

Helga smirked as she heard the incoming footsteps. She replied to Rhonda.

_Sitting right in my spot. They're still in your view. Recording now._

From behind the plant, Helga could see Lila's legs donned with green flats and a pair of feet that were presumably Eddie Gordo's. The shoes he wore seemed to be expensive; they were extremely shiny. The black pants he had on appeared to have been ironed and pressed. Helga breathed in quietly and pressed the little red button on the recorder. Show time.

It was Lila who spoke first.

"The weather is just ever so nice for February!"

"I agree, I didn't really need to wear a coat," the boy said to her. From his tone of voice, Helga guessed he was smiling.

"Oh, but you should always wear your coat silly," Lila encouraged. "It's still technically winter, you might still catch a cold. This week would be an ever so inconvenient time for you to get sick, wouldn't it?"

_I think we're getting a lead here_, Helga messaged Rhonda, who replied almost immediately with "_Keep paying close attention_."

"Lila, I'm not particularly sure about this week," the boy said plainly, sounding slightly irritated.

"Oh, but Eddie, you promised you would join me," Lila almost whined. Helga felt her ears get hot, but widened her eyes.

_This guy is def Eddie_.

"I know, I know sweetheart," Eddie started soothingly. "It's just--I feel so awkward at dances, and I don't know anyone at your school--"

Helga gasped and reached for her phone again. _They're talking about the dance. He said he doesn't know anyone at Hillwood._

"I'm ever so sure that you'll have _fun_, Eddie," Lila told him. There was a hint of menace in her voice that seemed very uncharacteristic.

"Well, truthfully, I'm _not_ sure," Eddie replied plainly. "Isn't there some other boy you'd like to go with?"

"But, Eddie, it's a _Valentine's Day _dance," Lila began slowly. "I'm ever so certain that I should attend with my _Valentine_."

Eddie chuckled. "And I'm ever so certain that my _girlfriend_ can't know about my Valentine."

_What?! _Helga screamed inside her mind. What in Criminey was going on here?

"She won't, if you give her a convincing excuse not to go to dinner with her then," Lila told him.

"I'm running out of good ones," Eddie said.

"Tell her that you'd like to get a head start on that essay for English," Lila suggested. There was a clink of a glass as she took a sip of something. There was a clash of utensils from Eddie's side of the table.

"She knows I'm not the studying type; besides, I told her about paying those boys to write my essays for me."

Helga could have slapped herself in the forehead right there.

Lila sighed, exasperated. "I don't understand why she has to see you two nights in a row. She already gets you on Valentine's Day; why can't _I_ have you the night before?"

There was a long pause between the two of them. So long, in fact, that Rhonda messaged Helga and asked where their conversation was going twice. Before Helga could reply, Eddie finally spoke.

"I'll see what I can do, sweetheart, but until then, I can't be your date."

--

"I don't believe it. I _ab_solutely can_not_ believe it. _He_ has a girl on the side too? And Lila even _knows_ about it?"

"I wouldn't say that the other girl is on the side; he _did_ call her his girlfriend. It seems to me that _Lila_ is the so-called 'other woman' on his part."

"Maybe he's the 'other man' on _her_ part too?"

"Pfft, I doubt it."

"Then what _is_ Arnold to Lila, if _she's_ not Eddie's main squeeze?"

Phoebe breathed slowly in and out, a usual gesture that signaled she was about to use a lot of breathe explaining something. "It appears that Lila is trying to prove herself to Eddie by spending more time with him and doing things out of the ordinary. Judging by the later parts of their conversation, Lila uses the fact that Eddie doesn't see his girlfriend very often to her advantage, making herself the better choice for him. If my guess is correct, she might want to use Arnold as someone to fall back on, just in case she fails to keep Eddie around."

"If she keeps _nagging like she did at Chez Paris, he won't stick around much longer," Helga snorted, annoyed. She had been in a particularly terrible mood since she spied on the twosome._

"_He seems to be the type to give in especially easily though," Phoebe added._

"_Do you think she'll convince him to go to the dance?" Rhonda asked._

"_If she does, you'll be the first to know about it," Helga droned, shoving a handful of pork rinds into her mouth. "Ask her who she's taking. If she says it's 'someone else,' then it's probably Eddie. If she says it's Arnold, then it could possibly mean that she's pulling the stunt we're hoping for."_

"_What stunt is that?" Rhonda questioned._

"_Helga," Phoebe started sternly, "you really think that she'd try and take both of them to the dance?"_

_Helga cackled loudly, but choked on a pork rind. "Exactly," she wheezed._


	14. The Dance

**Beforehand**--I really miss high school dances. Even though I had crappy experiences with most of them, they were still fun. My sister had her first homecoming dance recently, too, whaddya know, so I've been overcome with nostalgia. Random, but I thought it would be cool if someone could possibly illustrate this fic. I mean, I can't, I have no artistic talent in that aspect, but if someone else wanted to, that would be pretty cool. Anyway. Happy reading.

**Dis-claym-urr**: These be my home dawg Craig Bartlett's babies, werd?

**Chapter 14**: The Dance

"Mm mm _mm_, how did I _know_ this was gonna happen? How did I _know_? I'm thinking 'bout telling my mom to let me get my head checked, maybe I really _am_ psychic."

"Gerald, it's not funny."

Arnold and Gerald had the Johanssen household to themselves that night. Gerald managed to weasel his way out of babysitting Timberly by paying one of his pretty neighbors to watch her while Arnold came over with an "emergency issue." Martin and his wife were both working late and wouldn't be home before midnight. Ever since Jamie-O moved out, Gerald used these kinds of opportunities more liberally, only this time it was actually for something semi-constructive.

"I told you man, I knew something was going on with her," Gerald told Arnold, lounging in the beanbag chair.

"Come on Gerald, you were all gung-ho about the idea of me shaking Lila off for good, and now you're gonna tell me that--"

"Oh I'm _still_ gung-ho for that idea, man," Gerald assured him, suddenly reverting to seriousness. "I just knew it wasn't gonna turn out that way. You've got the disease, man, I knew you weren't gonna be cured that easy."

Arnold huffed. "What disease?"

"_Hello_, Sawyer Syndrome!" Gerald exclaimed, thrashing his arms about in the air. "You're stuck on that chick, man! Ain't nothing gonna fix it!"

"But what if I _want_ to fix it, Gerald?" Arnold said helplessly, staring at the television. It was turned off. "I mean, I like her, but…I don't wanna be hung up on her forever."

"Mm, I feel you," Gerald started. "Do you wanna give her a try though?"

Sighing, Arnold shrugged. "Why not? I've got nothing to lose."

--

Bigal's Café wasn't particularly crowded on weeknights. There was a small group of elderly men that would always order espressos and sit in the back and talk obnoxiously about the races, but the place would be empty otherwise. Arnold walked there alone in hopes that Lila was still on her shift, but not too busy to chit chat.

The aroma of cinnamon and chocolate surrounded the blonde as he strode cautiously inside, taking note of the awkward silence. The old men were absent, but a boy about Arnold's age was sitting at the counter, talking to the pretty redheaded waitress. If he wasn't mistaken, the boy was definitely flirting with her. From Arnold's point of view, they even appeared to be holding hands, but before he could be sure, the girl caught his eye and sprang forward.

"Arnold!" Lila breathed, smoothing out her apron. "Whatever brings you here on a school night?"

"Uh, well," Arnold began, not wanting to cut to the chase, especially with that boy looking on curiously. "I just really wanted a caramel frappuccino, you know?"

Lila giggled and looked hastily over her shoulder and back at him. "You just wanted one that badly that you had to walk all the way here and get it?" she teased.

"You never get those urges?" he teased back, putting on his wickedest smile. He bravely grasped her arm lightly and pulled her closer.

"Listen, Lila, I need to talk to you."

Glancing over her shoulder again, Lila looked at the boy, who shrugged.

"In private?"

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's just a customer!" Lila said nonchalantly. Pulling him towards the counter, she insisted that he take a seat.

"Now, whatever could be going on?"

Arnold swallowed, being careful not to glance at the boy sitting near him. For some weird reason, he felt that this kid wasn't just another customer. His facial expression must have revealed his discomfort, because Lila said, "Arnold, it's okay, just tell me whatever it is."

"Well," Arnold began slowly, keeping his eyes focused on her, "There's a dance coming up, right?"

Giggles spilled from her mouth. "Yes, there is."

The boy raised his eyebrows at Lila and sipped from his mug.

"And it should be a lot of fun, right?" Arnold said shakily, looking intently at her.

"I'm ever so certain that it would be," she agreed, playing along.

"And a lot of our friends are going to go," he went on, hoping that if he egged her on more, he wouldn't have to ask the question.

"Yes, I know they are," she said, lowering her eyelids.

Arnold sighed. She wasn't going to let him off easy. "Well, I don't have anyone to go with, so I was wondering if--that is, if you aren't busy, or if you don't have anyone either, or whatever--if you'd be my date?"

Lila smiled a little, gazing at a spot on the counter and wringing her hands together. "Well, Arnold, if you think it's a good idea…"

The boy sitting near Arnold shifted in his seat and laid his elbows on the counter. Staring hard at Lila, Arnold thought he saw him nod his head in a stern manner. The redhead stared back with a quizzical look, and he jerked his head toward Arnold and nodded again. Casually, he sipped his coffee again. Lila faced Arnold and shook her head and began to smile.

"I'd be glad to be your date, Arnold," she said, sounding the slightest bit uneasy, but Arnold guessed that it was nothing.

"Great," he said, smiling more widely than he wanted to. "I'll come by your house at six, then?"

"Six is fine," she said, smiling.

"Great," he said again, and left, feeling happy but slightly--only slightly suspicious.

--

It was near four in the afternoon when Helga heard an engine revving in front of her house. It was too early for either one of her parents to be home, so she peered out her bedroom window, wondering who could be there. Rhonda burst out of one of the side doors of her parents' new limousine.

_Please don't be bad news_, Helga thought in her head as she scampered down the staircase to meet her. She swung open her front door before Rhonda had the chance to knock.

"Helga, Helga," the rich girl breathed, clutching the side of the doorway.

"What the hell happened?" Helga asked anxiously.

"Lila's…Lila's taking Arnold," she exhaled.

Helga's mouth curled into a smirk and she invited her friend inside. The limo took off as she shut the front door.

--

The cafeteria was almost unrecognizable with all of the extravagant decorations. Shiny paper blanketed the tiled floor and small tables clothed in red dotted the back of the room. Miniscule disco balls hung from the ceiling, causing charming silvery lights to spill over the walls and dancing teens. The mood and setting was perfectly romantic, but there were other things on Helga's mind.

"Stay cool, act normal, but keep your eyes peeled," she warned Rhonda, who nodded back.

"Peeled for what?" Sid asked from his spot next to Rhonda.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Rhonda told him sweetly, planting a kiss on his cheek. The couple looked sleek and attractive in matching black attire. Rhonda donned red and white jewelry to match Sid's shoes and tie.

"I reckon this oughta be a really good time," Stinky said, slinging an arm over Helga.

"Sure, _Stinko_, just watch where you put your hands, got it?" she snapped, crossing her arms and legs.

"Whatever you say, Helga," Stinky told her, adjusting his pale pink tie with his free hand. If Rhonda hadn't picked it out for him, he wouldn't have matched his date.

"You should have invited Lila to ride with us," Helga grunted.

"Phoebe said Arnold and Gerald wanted to go together with their dates," she replied. "A good idea anyway, because Phoebe can tell us if anything happened on the way."

"Did they take the city bus?" Helga asked.

"No, Gerald's mom took the four of them," Rhonda said, adjusting her pearls.

"I'm texting Pheebs."

"I told her to message either one of us right away if she noticed anything," Rhonda told her.

"I'm just checking up," Helga insisted, pressing buttons on her phone.

"You guys sure are serious about this Lila thing," Sid pointed out, only half listening to the girls.

"Hearts are at stake here," Rhonda told him simply.

"Some might say the breaking of hearts is inevitable," Stinky said wisely.

"There are things that can be done to lower the level of damage," Rhonda said confidently.

"Or prevent it all together," Helga murmured, still with her limbs crossed.

"Sure, whatever," Sid rolled his eyes. "Can we just dance a while before you guys go into detective mode?"

Rhonda stood up and agreed, following her boyfriend onto the floor and leaving Helga and Stinky.

"Whaddya say, Helga? Are you fixing to get some dancing done?"

Reluctantly, Helga agreed and allowed Stinky to grab her arm and lead her out behind their friends. A vibration came from the bosom of her dress; Phoebe messaged her back.

_Nothing too suspicious, however, Lila was fiddling with her phone a lot; presumably text messaging someone._

"Whassamatter, Helga?"

Helga glanced over the crowd in search of Phoebe as she took Stinky's arm and said, "Just dance, Stinko."

--

It surprised Arnold that the first thing Lila wanted to do was dance. She suggested their immediate presence on the floor as soon as they arrived, so Arnold told Gerald that they would catch up later and he followed her. Together they danced for the first couple of songs they heard, all of which were upbeat and exciting. Lila moved quickly and gracefully, turning and twirling around and laughing as he and Gerald coordinated their own signature moves. Arnold had the honor of holding her waist for a while as she circled her torso in front of him, but as soon as a slower tune came on, she asked if he could get her a drink.

"Take your time, there'll be plenty of slow songs for us tonight," she said, winking. He felt light on his feet as he made his way over to the refreshments table.

"Two glasses of punch, please," Arnold asked the serving girl. He leaned back against the table and sipped from his cup, taking in the scene that lay before his eyes. Lila couldn't be spotted from his position, but he did see Helga, whom he thought looked extremely lovely in her short pink dress. Stinky was beside her, dressed in white with a pink tie, looking anxious. Helga was yelling something in his ear and pointing in Arnold's direction. Before he knew it, she was hurrying over to the table, but not meeting his eyes. Actually, she didn't seem to notice he was even there until he said hello.

"Wha--oh, hey, Football Head, how's it going?" she said a little loudly. The music was quieter by the table, but he supposed that her ears were still ringing from her spot on the dance floor.

"It's good--you didn't tell me you were coming," he said brightly, eyeing her face. Many of her hairs had gone astray from her up-do, but they framed her face prettily.

"Yeah, well, I kinda just decided last minute," she replied plainly, sipping her punch.

"You came with Stinky?" he asked, looking back at the crowd.

"Neither of us had dates, so--yeah," she said, shrugging. "You came with--?"

"Oh, I uh," Arnold started, remembering Helga loathed his date, but said anyway, "I'm here with Lila."

Helga smirked. Not the reaction he expected, but it was better than a groan and a dramatic roll of the eyes.

"Where is she?" she asked casually, also looking ahead of them.

Arnold sipped the last bit of his punch and scanned the crowd one more time before he said, "Somewhere over there. She wanted me to get her a drink, but uh--now I can't see her…"

"Hopefully she's not dancing with some other chump," Helga said, still smirking slightly.

Arnold swallowed and looked at Helga suspiciously while she reached into her dress for her phone and pressed a few buttons on it.

"Welp, I'm gonna head back out there," she said quickly, now smiling instead. "I'll see you later, Football Head."

"See you, Helga," he said quietly, crushing his empty cup.

--

Helga saw Rhonda and Phoebe as soon as she swung open the bathroom door.

"Nobody's in here, right?"

"No one comes in these bathrooms," Rhonda told her.

"We checked the stalls, it's safe," Phoebe assured her.

"Okay, fine, updates," Helga demanded, examining herself in the mirror. She noticed the strands of hair that had fallen out of place, but decided to let them dangle.

"Lila was definitely dancing with Eddie during that last slow song," Rhonda told her, eyeing her own reflection. "She didn't see me, but I saw her."

"Arnold was at the punch table then," Helga said. "He was still there when I left."

"Eddie disappeared before the song ended," Phoebe told her. "I'm not sure where he is right now, but there was another girl with them."

Helga faced her friends. Raising one eyebrow she repeated, "_Another_ girl?"

"We couldn't see who she was, but she was there," Rhonda said, stepping closer to Helga.

"She has long brown hair," Phoebe said.

"And she's wearing exactly the same dress as Phoebe, only hers is white," Rhonda sneered.

"The two of them walked off together when Lila went back to Arnold."

"We gotta find out who she is," Helga said.

--

"Hey, there you are," Arnold said, relieved, touching Lila's arm lightly. He was making his way back onto the floor when Lila emerged from it, looking a bit exasperated.

"Oh, Arnold, I'm oh so sorry, I was dancing with a couple of my friends, I forgot I asked you to get me a drink!" she explained, smiling. The brown in her eyes seemed to twinkle under the disco lights.

Arnold smiled warmly at her and handed her the cup of punch. "Well, I got it for you. Do you wanna sit down for a minute before we dance again?"

Lila looked about herself for a few seconds and then breathed, "Yes, sure Arnold."

The blonde boy led her lightly by the arm towards a mostly empty table. A girl with brown hair and a boy that looked strikingly familiar were sitting on the opposite end of it. Lila adjusted her headband and inhaled deeply as she sat down next to her date.

"Relax a little, we don't have to dance all that much tonight," Arnold said comfortingly, patting her shoulder. Her upper body glittered with sweat.

"You're ever so sweet, Arnold," she said quietly. "I'm very glad I came with you."

"I'm glad you did, too," he said in a small voice, leaning closer to her. She backed her face away and shifted her gaze from him to the couple across from them. The boy looked at her oddly and led the girl he was with away from the table. Lila placed a hand on Arnold's leg, a gesture that caused his insides to quiver, but she quickly rose from her seat.

"Arnold, I--I've got to go to the bathroom, would you mind if--"

"No, no," Arnold said, also getting up. "I'll wait for you here."

"Oh no, Arnold," she said a little loudly. "Go--go find some of our friends, I might be a while, I feel slightly woozy."

Arnold furrowed his brow and lightly held her shoulders. "Are you okay? Maybe someone should go with you?"

Lila shook her head so violently that some of her curls fell out of place. "I'm ever so certain that I'm okay, Arnold. I just need a little bit. My dress needs adjustments too," she said, half-smiling and gripping the waist of her white dress.

Arnold removed his hands from her shoulders slowly and smiled weakly. "Okay, well, text me if you have trouble finding me, all right? I'll probably be with Gerald."

"I won't be too long," she said convincingly, turning on her heel. This motion sent her auburn waves swinging over her shoulders. Arnold sighed.

--

It was convenient that Sid and Stinky were smokers, because then the girls were given a good excuse to walk around outside and see who was doing what. As they wiggled their way out of the crowd, they watched Arnold talk to Gerald and Phoebe at the refreshments table.

"Where's Lila?" Rhonda whispered to Helga.

"Let's go through the hallway with the bathrooms," Helga suggested, leading them to make a left around a corner. Surely enough, Lila and two other teens were heading towards the alternate entrance doors.

"They's gonna spot us following 'em if we don't go slower," Stinky said, fiddling through his pockets in search of his pack. The group of four slowed their steps and chatted casually in order to disguise the fact that they were tailing the teens ahead. Carefully, the exited through the doors and watched Lila out of the corner of their eyes. She and Eddie and the brunette seated themselves on the terrace of the fountain.

Helga nudged Rhonda as they came through the opening. "We can listen by the wall..."

Sid and Stinky lit their cigarettes and leaned against the brick wall that bared the high school crest. Rhonda rested her body against Sid's and Helga stood close enough to Stinky to make it look like the four of them were plenty occupied with themselves, but they stayed remotely quiet. Eavesdropping was an art.

"You're an ever so wonderful cover, Eva," Helga heard Lila say.

"I'm not so sure about this," Eva said uneasily. "What if he catches on?"

"He's not going to as long as you play your cards right," Eddie told her, snaking his arm around Lila's waist. "Just hold onto me when we start walking back, and Arnold will think nothing of it."

"Are you sure?" Eva whined.

"Absolutely, don't fret," Lila assured, touching the girl's arm lightly.

"We'll wait another minute or two and then I'll go back in with Eva," Eddie told Lila, lifting her chin.

"I'll go around through a different door, just in case," Lila said, kissing the boy. Eva groaned.

"I'm ever so sorry you have to watch, but it'll look suspicious if we walk out anywhere alone," Lila said apologetically.

"It's whatever," Eva whined, crossing her arms and turning her back to them.

"Who _is_ that chick?" Helga whispered to Rhonda, tearing her eyes away from the threesome.

"Never seen her in my life until tonight," she answered, shaking her head and then leaning it on Sid's shoulder.

Sid took a slow drag and stared curiously at Eva. "If you squint your eyes," he started as he blew out smoke, "she kinda looks like that guy they're with."

Stinky wrinkled his nose and inconspicuously gazed at her as well, blinking a couple of times. "Ya know, he's kinda right, she kinda does look like him."

"You're crazy," Rhonda said, glancing up at Sid.

"No, really, look at her, like really look at her," he said hurriedly, pointing at her with the same hand that held the cigarette.

Helga averted her eyes towards Eva, whose countenance showed utter annoyance and impatience. The girls feet pointed inward and her arms were crossed; she looked much like a six-year-old about to throw a temper tantrum. Looking to Eddie, who was embracing Lila, she noticed that he had the same hair color and skin complexion as Eva.

"They could pass for brother and sister if you look hard enough," Helga admitted, looking at Rhonda.

"We're not close enough to really see, though," she said.

"Yeah, but come on now, he talks to her like a little kid," Sid observed. "Look how she's acting. I'd make the same face if my older brother was bossing me around."

Helga looked back at Eva and then at the ground, thinking of Olga telling her what to do or how to behave. Instantly she decided that she'd react the same way and said, "Sid's got a point."

"We should investigate before we assume," Rhonda suggested.

Over by the fountain, they heard Eva speak again, sounding furious. "I'd like to go back inside sometime before dawn."

"Can you calm down?" Eddie asked, removing his arms from Lila's torso.

"No offense, but I've got better things to do than sit here and watch you suck face with her," the girl said impatiently.

"You know, this is why we live in different houses, you're such a pain in the ass."

Sid cocked his head to the side and took another drag. "See? What'd I tell you."

Helga and Rhonda exchanged glances and listened again.

"--better be keeping true to your word, it's so uncomfortable, helping you cheat on--"

"Stop," Eddie ordered. The tone of authority surfaced and impressed. "We'll go inside now, if you'll shut up."

"Eddie, you're being ever so mean, aren't you?" Lila said sympathetically.

"She'll get over it," he said, looking darkly at his sister. "I'll take her back in, you go on ahead the other way."

Eddie and Lila kissed about five times, hugged each other tightly, and then broke apart. Eddie took Eva's hand and walked towards the main entrance while Lila sat on the terrace for a minute. Helga glanced at Rhonda, who nodded her head. They would let the boys finish their cigarettes and then go through whichever door Lila chose to re-enter the dance.

--

"I'm telling you, Gerald, something's up."

"And I'm telling _you_, man, you worry too much."

Arnold and Gerald smoothed their shirts and fiddled with their ties and they sat near the refreshments table, watching the teens pass by absent-mindedly and sipping on their fourth or fifth rounds of punch.

"Don't you think it's weird that she's been out of sight so long?"

"Phoebe's been away just as long, and you don't see me losing my mind," Gerald told him plainly.

"She made up some excuse, like her dress is messed up and she needs to use the bathroom," Arnold groaned.

"So? She's a girl, that stuff happens."

"But it's been fifteen minutes!"

"You said she had a headache or something, maybe she just needed to chill."

Arnold sighed and looked helplessly at his friend. He watched Gerald take a long sip from his cup and then said, "But--"

"Arnold, listen, you're overreacting," Gerald said sternly. Pointing at him with the hand he clutched his cup with, he said, "It's just because you like her and you still don't think she likes you. She _does_! Now chill out and enjoy the rest of this thing!"

With that, Gerald stood up and smiled at the quickly approaching Phoebe, who grinned and wiggled her fingers at Arnold. The two of them slung their arms around each other and walked out onto the floor, leaving Arnold alone with his sixth round of punch and without another drop of confidence.

--

If he clutched the Styrofoam cup any tighter, fruit punch would have spilled out of the likely punctures. The pear green in his eyes was misty and unfocused; the breath from between his lips came slowly and heavily. His countenance was something beyond exasperation, and Helga had to remind herself that it was a good thing that Lila was making him feel this way. Another step closer to victory, yet sad indeed how his misery was the price to pay to achieve it. If she was disturbed by _this_, how could she live past seeing him after he found out the truth?

She strode over to him.

"What's up with _you_?" she inquired, careful not to sound too harsh.

Arnold didn't look at her, or anywhere but straight ahead at the random swaying teens. The chorus of some slow song from the early 90's was playing; only a few people were sitting it out. Helga looked over her shoulder to follow his gaze, but saw no one familiar.

"How long you been sitting here?" she asked him, retaining her cool tone.

"I don't know," he answered. His grip on the cup loosened.

"Where's Lila?" she asked plainly.

"I don't know. I have no idea." Arnold sipped the last bit of punch and rubbed his eyes. Leaning back in his seat, he gave an exhausted sigh. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Maybe it was," Helga agreed, turning her nose up.

"Maybe I should just give up."

Helga looked at him curiously.

"You know, on Lila. She's caused so much trouble..."

"That's the best idea you've ever had, Football Head," she said, gazing ahead and smirking. What he didn't know was that she was being entirely sincere.

"I've been sitting here sulking for a half hour," Arnold half-laughed. "No one should do that at a dance."

"Got that right," Helga agreed, still smirking.

Arnold looked at her for a few seconds, blinked a couple of times, and smiled warmly. "Helga."

"What?"

"Let's go dance."

No retort could possibly follow that suggestion. In fact, it wasn't even a suggestion; more like a request, and she couldn't turn down a request from Arnold. Shrugging to prevent a wild grin, Helga let him take her arm and said, "Whatever you want, Football Head."

"Stinky won't mind?" he asked as they approached the floor.

"He's not my _boyfriend_ or anything close _to_ it, he has no right to _mind_ who I dance with," Helga told him as they reached a spot under a soft, pink light.

Arnold chuckled. Delicately, he placed his hands on her waist. In turn, she encircled her arms about his shoulders. At first touch, it felt odd, awkward, almost _wrong_, in some way, but both of them eased into it. The familiar oceanic scent from his hair filled her head and she dizzied a little, but didn't lose balance. His eyes danced about the room as he frowned, but when he met eyes with her, his face softened. The green in his eyes lightened just ever so slightly. He smiled. She smiled back. She felt a tap at her shoulder; Phoebe waved at her quickly and grinned. Gerald gave her a nod and slight smile, and then met eyes with Arnold and winked. Helga looked past the two of them and noticed that Lila was there, in plain sight, locking lips with Eddie. Horrified, Helga turned Arnold so that his back was to them.

"Whoa, Helga, what's--"

"Nothing, I was just--tired of being on this side," Helga told him quickly, glancing over his shoulder, watching the other twosome. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks.

"You okay, Helga?" Arnold asked, concerned.

"I'm _fine_, Arnoldo, trust me." The words came out more menacingly then intended, so she smiled encouragingly after closing her mouth. He smiled again.

"Thanks, Helga."

"For what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Making me feel better."

A lump formed in her throat as she quickly glanced over his shoulder again. Lila was still embracing Eddie. Her voice cracked. "No problem, loser…"

--

"I just couldn't."

"Why _not_?"

"I just couldn't _do it_, okay!?"

"I can't _believe_ you, Helga! You messed everything up!"

"Will you just give it a _rest_? There's _plenty_ more chances!"

"But you had the perfect one!"

"It was too soon!"

"You keep harping on about doing this, and then when you get your shot, you get cold feet!"

"You would have hesitated too!"

"Why didn't you just _expose_ her, right there?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I would if you would just _explain_ it to me!"

"Girls, all of this arguing is going to get us nowhere."

It was nearing the end of the dance, and Rhonda pulled Helga and Phoebe into the B wing bathroom again to talk. She spotted Lila and Eddie in a close embrace on the floor after Arnold excused himself from Helga to go to the restroom and demanded to know why Helga didn't do her job.

"Helga, I know it's hard, but it has to be done," said Rhonda, struggling to speak calmly.

Pouting, Helga folded her arms across her chest. "Not like _that_."

"He said he was gonna give up on her, though!" Rhonda raised her voice right back up.

"He _said_ that _maybe_ he _should_, unless you didn't _hear_ me correctly," Helga retorted, looking darkly at her.

"Guys, honestly, that doesn't matter," Phoebe began calmly, shaking her head. "Rhonda, think. She would have ruined a particularly sweet moment with Arnold if she pointed out Lila and Eddie then. Would you have done anything to turn that sour?"

The dark-haired girl turned her nose up. "Well, I think Helga needs to do something to make up for a lost opportunity."

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the door unexpectedly swung open. As if a higher power was responding to them, in waltzed Lila with Eddie attached to her, laughing, seemingly out of breath. She kissed him, and he kissed back, and they hugged tightly; several nights seemed to have gone by until they finally broke apart. Neither noticed the three girls staring at them until they involuntarily looked ahead of themselves. Startled, the couple gasped.

_Perfect_, Helga thought, placing her hands on her hips.

Sarcastically, she spoke, "Wow, Lila, what brings you in here with…uh, gee, Arnoldo, did you dye your hair or something?"

Lila glanced nervously from Helga to Rhonda to Phoebe and began to stammer as Eddie ran his hands anxiously through his dark locks.

"Oh, I--he--this--I--"

"You're a two-timing scheeze," said Rhonda, looking the girl up and down with half-lidded eyes.

"No, no, I--"

"You pulled a fast one on the Football Head," Helga said to her.

"No, Helga, you don't under--"

"I think we comprehend the situation perfectly fine, Lila," Phoebe interrupted.

"We saw you with _him_ earlier, on the dance floor," Rhonda said, eyeing Eddie.

Lila looked helplessly at the boy, who pointed a finger at Rhonda and said, "Listen, this isn't your business, so why don't you just--"

"Oh, but you see, you're messing with a friend of ours," Rhonda cut him off, stepping beside Helga.

"And we cannot allow Lila to do any more damage to him," Phoebe added, now on the other side of Helga.

"No, wait, please, I just--"

"Oh come _on_," Helga started, "what can you _possibly_ say that will justify what you're doing to Arnold?"

For a moment, Lila looked livid, but smoothed the front of her dress. "It would never be my intention to hurt Arnold, I don't care if you believe me or not, but if you must know, I wanted to take Eddie to begin with, but he wasn't sure if he could go or not. Arnold asked me before Eddie's plans were finalized. This is the only time I'll be able to see Eddie for a while, and I wanted to make Arnold happy, so--"

"So you figured out how to juggle two dates at once," Helga finished for her.

Lila hung her head and wrung her hands, silent as Eddie put his fingers to his forehead. It was much like seeing a dog walking with its tail between its legs.

"It was the wrong thing to do."

"Are you talking about sneaking around with two dates or cheating on Arnold?" Rhonda asked, examining her nails.

"I'm ever so certain that I can't cheat on Arnold if I'm not his girlfriend," Lila said defensively. She seemed to have been losing her patience, because the color was slowly draining from her face.

"But he thinks you're going to be!" Helga spat out. "And you're prancing around with some other guy while cozying up to _him_!"

"Honestly, Lila, do you think that's a good thing to be doing?" Phoebe asked, raising her eyebrows.

Lila looked from girl to girl and folded her arms. "I'm oh so sure that it's none of your business how I handle relationships."

"So you won't mind if we tell Arnold about what's going on?" Helga tested her.

"No offense, Helga, but I'm ever so sure that he'll believe me over you," she tested back. Helga's temper flared; this girl was ready to play hardball. Dropping her arms, Helga wet her lips and stepped close to the redhead, so close that she had to whisper to her.

"Fine. Do what you want. But I'll catch you, Lila. He's gonna find out, and you'll be history."

"History repeats itself," Lila whispered back, turned on her heel, and dragged Eddie out of the bathroom.

--

Ten-twenty. The dance would be over in a matter of minutes, and Arnold had accepted the fact that he'd be spending the last of it without Lila. It seemed like ages ago that she'd disappeared, and frankly, this no longer bothered him. Gerald and Stinky and Sid all kept him good company, and there were a handful of girls--upperclassmen--that had asked to dance with him, so Arnold really saw no point in being upset about Lila. Gerald thumped him on the back in the darkest corner of the dance floor as they watched the crowd dissipate.

"I'm proud of you, man," he told him, grinning.

"For what?" Arnold asked, shrugging.

"For not letting her get to you."

Arnold cocked his head to the side and scanned the thinning mass of teens in search for their other friends. "Like you said, Gerald, I gave her a try."

"Yeah, you did," he agreed. Phoebe was approaching, causing a wide smile to crawl upon Gerald's face. "Good for you, man."

"Thanks," Arnold said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"We ready to dip?" Gerald asked, looking over everyone's heads.

"The limo should be here any minute," Rhonda said, walking up to Sid and pecking his cheek.

"Where's the other girls?" he asked, looking about. Helga was approaching, looking inexplicably infuriated.

"Lila won't be joining us," Arnold said plainly. "She messaged me saying she had her dad pick her up early. She wasn't feeling too well."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arnold saw Helga and Rhonda exchange questionably dark looks.

"What's wrong?" he asked curiously. Both girls' eyes darted quickly to him and then at each other; Helga shook her head.

"Nothing's wrong, Football Head, let's just get outta here, it's cold now that there's no body heat."

The seven friends walked through the main entrance to greet Rhonda's chauffer and climb inside the limo. It'd been a long night, so they utilized the gracious amount of space, laying down in different spots and stretching out. Arnold, however, didn't feel much like relaxing, and from the way Helga curled up on the far end of the seat, he guessed that she didn't either.

"Fun night, huh?" he said casually, sitting across from the blonde.

"Funny coming from you," she stated, looking upward.

"I'm not really upset about it," he said solidly, hoping that he meant it as much as he thought he did.

Helga eyed him curiously and then looked at a spot on the floor. "She didn't even let you say goodnight."

A shrug came from his shoulders. "I don't want to make a big deal about it."

"There's other fish in the sea," Helga said, without looking up.

"Yeah. It'll be fine. Things work out in the end," Arnold smiled weakly, hoping.

A grumble came from Helga. "Always with the optimism."

"_Some_body's gotta look on the bright side."

"And it's always _you_, _Football Head," she pointed out, finally meeting his eyes._

_He couldn't help but smirk. "I wouldn't have do it so much if everyone else knew how to."_

_No retort for that one; she knew he was right. Another grumble came from the blonde girl and Arnold stretched, satisfied._


	15. Cops and Robbers

**Beforehand**--I know, I know. You guys must hate me for not handing Lila her carcass on a plate in that last one. I will not disappoint; the time will come. Thank you so much for your interest and your feedback. Happy reading, loves. (BTW, I found out how to find the correct dates, so now my timing is accurate. All I had to go was use the "Go To Date" function on my calendar in my phone. Smart.)

**Dis-claym-urr**: Craig Bartlett's genius inventions, not mine--with the exceptions of Eddie and Eva Gordo; those kids are my creations.

**Chapter 15**: Cops and Robbers

Just imagine, Dad's on some three-day business trip, Mom is God-knows-where, and there's a fridge full of food. You can scream and yell and sing as loud as you desire. No older sister around to pester you, no younger brother in existence to storm the hallways with your underwear crowning his brow. A jar full of money sits on the counter and the latest DVD releases are waiting to be viewed on the living room coffee table. Oh yeah, and Mom left the liquor cabinet unlocked in the basement. Most kids would kill to have a few nights like this. Helga's had too many.

These nights always turned out the same; Helga would take the thirty or forty dollars that Miriam left in the jar and order pizza, or just pocket it, watch Wrestlemania for an hour or two, and then head down to the basement to raid the liquor cabinet. The red wine was the only thing she'd drink, and there were dozens of bottles of it. Miriam stuck to the vodka, so she never noticed the other containers slowly emptying. She picked a different wine every night; the one she took upstairs this time was from Valentine's Day ten years previous. Helga gazed at a scribble on the bottom of the label: "Bob and Miriam, 1992. Happy Hearts' Day! L"

The blonde was puzzled at the writing. L what? She squinted at it, noticing that the label was mostly faded, so she guessed that the writing must have just worn off. The "L" might have began the signature of whoever sent the bottle. But who did?

_Does it even matter?_ Helga questioned in her mind as she shrugged and pour the contents of the bottle into a tall glass. The blood red liquid passed slowly between her lips. The taste of it was a little starch, even sour, somehow, but Helga finished that glass and another anyway. She downed about six drinks until she finally decided to return the bottle to its home.

The staircase to the basement looked windy and long, even formidable, as if some sort of trap awaited at the end of it, but Helga stumbled downward despite. She lifted her left arm several times to remind herself that the wine was still in her clutch; she then hugged it to her chest. Her limbs felt so weak that she was sure she'd drop it if she wasn't careful.

It took a while to find the proper cubby hole for the wine she took, but after she placed it back in, she sank against the cabinet. Tears spilled from her eyes, but she was too exhausted to cry. Minutes that might as well have been days passed before her legs felt strong enough to hold the rest of her body up again so that she could return upstairs. Water might have been swishing inside her brain; her head felt as if it weighed thousands of pounds atop her shoulders. The stairs seemed higher up and the kitchen light at the top was almost too bright. There was a moment where she feared that she saw Lila in that doorway, and when she reached it, she screamed, but there was no one. Only the cat sat at her feet, wide-eyed and afraid. She remembered him looking at Miriam the same way one time.

Looking about herself through bloodshot eyes, Helga whined and forced herself to climb her way to her bedroom on the second floor. Her legs felt more and morel like spaghetti and she soon had to resort to using her hands and knees to get from one step to the next. When she reached the top, the cat scampered up beside her, looked at her for a brief moment, and took off for her parents' room. Helga lifted herself up and miraculously found which door led to her bedroom. She flopped herself onto the bed, thinking of Arnold and Lila and Eddie and the mess she must have created. She had the perfect shot to expose her but she couldn't do it, all because she wanted to savor that moment with the Football Head. Rhonda wouldn't have held back. Rhonda would have sold her out, right there. Helga squinted and felt hot tears streaming down her face again. She probably wouldn't have cried if alcohol hadn't been in her system. She probably wouldn't have been over thinking everything if she didn't drink. Helga wondered why her mother did this so often, and decided that she wasn't going to anymore.

--

It was the place to go to when he needed to clear his head. The "sanctuary" that Park set up, near Mrs. Vitello's flower shop. It was a miracle that nothing happened to it, but then again, it was a miracle Arnold remembered it was still in existence. As he wrestled with the knob on the door, he noticed it wasn't jammed like the last time he'd visited, which was well over a year ago. The smell of cleaning products and tropical fruit punch swam over him, instantly flooding his head with memories as far back as fourth grade. The place was used as a safe haven for the nine-year-olds on Trash Can Day--even though Wolfgang and his mates dirtied it up a great deal, Park managed to make it right, and it looked even better than when it was first set up. Smaller, though. Much smaller than he realized.

The white curtain was pulled back. Someone must have paid the place a visit recently, Arnold guessed, because he shut it during his previous one. As he flopped his body onto the red couch, he wondered who came since he last did, and how often. The cushion was so soft underneath him that he practically sank into it. Had it always been this comfortable?

His eyes wandered over to the wall. Paint splatters covered nearly half of it; reds and blues vibrant against the white. Arnold guessed it was from that time Sheena and Nadine decided it would be a good idea to dump acrylics on themselves as they ran around the room in their bathing suits. He chuckled, thinking of how Sheena tripped over an empty can and used her hands to break her fall against that wall. Downward handprints of blue were still there. Nadine used a brush to add the red, and Curly drenched both his arms in paint to add his own handprints. Smiling widely, he remembered Helga saying that the whole thing looked like something she saw in the Blair Witch Project.

_I wonder what she's doing_, Arnold wondered automatically, placing his arms behind his head. He wished he knew why he asked her to dance with him the night before. He was alone, and lonely, and sick of being miserable, and she was there. It was convenient. But he wouldn't have asked if she were anyone else. Something about her just made him want to be better, to be strong, to overcome. Misery was a risky business that he just didn't want to engage in, especially if she were to know about it. He couldn't be upset around her. He wouldn't let himself. If only he understood why.

--

"It sounds very romantic," Dr. Bliss cooed, hovering over her coffee. She rested her head upon her hand with her elbow on the desk, listening intently to Helga's recount of the dance.

"So you see why I _couldn't_ bust out Lila, then, right?"

Dr. Bliss nodded slowly, finally reverting to seriousness. "I'm sorry Rhonda scolded you. She wasn't in your position, so she didn't see the justification."

Helga scowled, remembering how Rhonda spent the rest of the night fuming. Of course, she was fine come Monday, but Helga knew she hadn't forgiven her. She wouldn't, not until they found some way to get Lila, and get her good. When she voiced this, Dr. Bliss said, "Do you really think it's a good idea to create a scenario where Lila would be exposed?"

"Do you think it's a good idea to sit back and watch her hurt Arnold?"

The psychiatrist's eyes misted. Gently, she said to Helga, "I know you want to protect him, but there are some things that you just can't save anyone from…things like heartache."

Helga raised an eyebrow in question.

"Even if you do catch Lila, Arnold is still going to hurt. No matter how he finds out, or how it happens, it'll hurt him just the same."

Helga shifted in her spot on the couch and turned her gaze to the ceiling. "Maybe he won't hurt as bad if I'm there for him."

--

She didn't want to take a break. He didn't want to continue. He told Miss Hawkins that his head didn't feel like it'd been on straight, so she allowed him to sit out for a while. Park was called to the stage and Arnold sat in the first row of the auditorium to watch as he and Helga rehearsed one of their scenes.

"You're going to say it, aren't you?" she asked him, expectantly. He stared at her with judgmental eyes.

"Tell him you love him. With all your heart."

"I'm taking my next book to Viking."

"Tell him you've loved him for nine years, but you were afraid to realize it," he pressed.

"I'm moving this book to Viking."

"Tell him you're afraid of love--afraid of needing."

"Needing," she repeated.

"To belong to someone," he said, touching her hair. Arnold half-smiled. Helga wouldn't let anyone do that to her in reality.

"We all do, beautiful. I'm sorry about that."

She was silent, seemingly at a loss for words. He went on, "Tell him you know this is the worst, dumbest, cruelest moment to do this to him. But there it is, and he has to choose."

"And what will he do?" she questioned, her eyes boring into his.

Unsmiling, he replied, "He'll choose Kim. You'll stand by her at her wedding. You'll kiss him goodbye. And you'll go home."

If words were capable of breaking hearts, those would have broken hers. Hers as Julianne heard by Digger, anyway. Helga's face certainly expressed this idea. Arnold felt a stab at his chest as he watched her eyes tear up, following Park as he exited stage right. Miss Hawkins clapped from her seat beside him.

"Beautiful, beautiful, so touching. Park, Park--come out here, Park, wonderful job, I'm so glad you're my Digger! Helga, excellent, as usual, I am so proud!" the lady beamed at her students and rose from her seat, folders and coffee holder in hand. "Okay, break time, but just fifteen minutes, _fifteen_, no longer! Go pee, go get a drink, go lay down in the aisles, do whatever, then we'll get right back into it. Arnold, I want you and Helga up there at three-thirty sharp!"

Elena Hawkins' dark curtain of hair swung behind her as she strode up the aisles to exit the auditorium. From the same aisle, a familiar figure in corduroy pants and a green shirt hurried the opposite way. The long, auburn plait down her back told Arnold it was Lila. Helga sneered from her spot onstage and exited stage left. Arnold rose from his seat, pondering whether or not he should leave, or run to hide backstage, or just to stand there and wait for her to say something. He knew she wanted to. Sure enough, she did.

"Arnold," she breathed, standing in front of him. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not disrupting your rehearsal."

"No, we're on break, it's okay," he said, his voice dropping along with his heart.

"Listen," she began uneasily, wringing her hands, "I'm awfully sorry about the dance, I'm certain I didn't pay enough attention to you, and you were my date, and--"

"Oh, no, it's--" Arnold started, but she shook her head.

"No, no, it's not okay, Arnold, it was wrong of me, and I'm sorry. I gave you the impression that I don't care when I'm oh too sure that it's the opposite," she said sweetly, stepping closer. He inhaled that scent of apple and cinnamon.

"Oh, well, uh," he blurted, unsure. There was plenty he wanted to say, but looking her in the face and going through with saying it seemed impossible.

"Please--give me another chance, Arnold, to prove I like you, please?" she requested, taking his hand in hers. He felt his other hand reach for hers. It was the equivalent of stupidly placing it on a burning frying pan.

Sighing, defeated, he smiled weakly at her. Somehow he knew he was going to regret this, but the rush that came with her touch made him care less.

--

"How did _that_ go?" Helga asked Arnold suspiciously, walking across the stage.

"What?" he said from the front row.

"What'd _she_ have to say to you?" she pressed, folding her arms.

With a sigh, Arnold said, "Why does it matter?"

_As if it wasn't obvious_, Helga thought as she said, "_Hello_, she ditched you at the dance! What, did she think she could waltz in and say sorry and have it be _fine_?"

Another sigh. "Actually, Helga, she said she really likes me and she'd like to be given the chance to prove it."

"She already had it!"

"Well, I'm giving her another one," he told her solidly.

After a roll of the eyes, Helga droned, "And you're gonna _trust _her?"

"What do you _want_ me to do, Helga?" Arnold asked, revealing his impatience. "Blow her off and wait around for her to do something?"

"_Doi_!" she answered, throwing her hands up in the air. "If you keep giving her opportunities, she's gonna mess _all_ of 'em up!"

It was Arnold's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and why would she do that?"

"Because she knows you won't say _no_!" Helga burst, heated. "She'll walk all over you and you're gonna let her do it! If you don't ignore her the least bit--"

"Ignoring her didn't help me before, how is it going to now?" he questioned, calm but obviously fuming.

Helga put her fingers to her forehead and paced. She could tell him, right now, right in the moment, but looking at the confusion in his eyes kept the words tied down in her throat.

"Helga," he said slowly, getting up on the stage, "I care about her too much to just give up…I like her. A lot. I'm gonna take whatever I can get. Can you just…try to understand?"

_I don't have to try_, she thought in her head, but nodded at him. "Your choice, Football Head…"

His hand touched her shoulder lightly and he smiled slowly as a thank-you. "I'm gonna put away a few props." Arnold turned and jogged backstage.

Helga sighed, her head aching as she watched him disappear behind the curtain. She hadn't felt so lonely in so long as she stood under the dimmed stage lights.

_I'll be there when she effs you over_.

--

Arnold and Gerald hung around the library after school that Friday. It was a bit more crowded than usual since there were a few book clubs holding meetings and several tutoring sessions going on, but still extremely quiet. Phoebe was assisting a fellow ninth-grader with her geometry homework when the boys passed by her table inconspicuously, pretending not to notice her. She looked up, but didn't catch their eyes. Frowning, she whispered a few helpful hints to the girl she was helping and Gerald pulled Arnold over to the front desk.

"Gerald, I'm not sure this is a good idea," Arnold whispered, peering over to the back. Both librarians were absent from their post.

"Perfect chance, man," Gerald said, winking. "Plus, we got an audience!"

"You're positive you wanna ask her this way?"

Rather than reply, Gerald climbed atop the counter and cupped his mouth with his hands, ready to shout. Arnold rolled his eyes and darted into one of the aisles.

"AYO!"

Every head in the library turned to face the boy who was apparently crazy enough to violate rules. Gerald continued shouting, "PHOEBE HEYERDAHL! AYO, PHOEBE!"

Blushing madly, the small Japanese girl leaned over in her seat to meet eyes with Gerald, who then yelled, "WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?"

Applause erupted from all corners of the library; several girls in the area broke into choruses of "aw!" and "how cute!" Red-faced but smiling widely, despite the metal in her mouth, Phoebe nodded vigorously and scampered over to hug Gerald, who jumped off the desk in time to be confronted by the head librarian.

--

The space behind Arnold's couch was a lot smaller than Helga remembered. Of course, the last time she weaseled her way back there, she'd been about twelve years old, and now, pushing fifteen, her blossoming body didn't feel very comfortable.

Patiently she waited for Arnold and Lila to come up to his room; according to Phoebe, she and Gerald invited the two of them to go on a sort of double date, and Lila wanted to hang out at Arnold's for a while before they had to get ready for Chez Paris. Since their boyfriends were best friends, Phoebe decided to make a pseudo-truce with Lila, which Helga and Rhonda both encouraged. Valuable information was at her expense that way. If Eddie was still in the picture, Phoebe would be the first to know, and so far, she'd made sure whether or not they were keeping contact. To Helga's dismay, Phoebe snuck a peek at Lila's phone, noting that the last time she called him was the night of the dance, a week ago. Tonight she'd surely see if Lila was done with him or not.

A turn of the doorknob told Helga that they'd entered. Quickly, she turned her phone off and the sound recorder on.

The two of them walked in laughing. Through the slit in the wall, she couldn't see their faces, but was able to take note of their body language. Arnold seemed very relaxed, laid-back, while Lila kept stepping back and forth to and away from him. Often she would touch his arm, and when they sat down on the couch, Helga kept hearing her tap him on the leg. They didn't talk about anything special in particular, but Helga didn't expect to hear outrageously intelligent conversation. Lila had grown to be less of a wonder over the years.

"And that's how we started making more money, it was ever so sweet of Rhonda's family." Lila had been explaining to him the story of how her father got a new job and was able to buy a new house in the neighborhood.

"How long have you lived in the new place?" Arnold asked her, interested.

"Since the middle of eighth grade," she answered. "I would've thought you knew about it, but I remembered that was the time we…"

Arnold exhaled slowly. "Yeah…we--weren't talking then."

A pause. Helga saw Lila push her hair behind one ear. "I'm ever so sorry about that, Arnold."

"It's…it's just the way things happened," he said, obviously wanting to spare her some guilt.

"You were right, all along, Arnie's really not as special as you are," she said, sending Helga's temper flaring.

"I only said that because I was really jealous," Arnold told her. Helga swooned. His modesty advanced over the years. "I shouldn't have made myself out to be more valuable than he was--it's just, I know I'm a good guy, and I think I deserve to get the only thing I asked for, and…not only _not_ getting it, but watching someone who didn't work for it get it instead…"

"That really must have hurt," Lila said, sympathetically.

_No kidding_, Helga thought, suppressing a grunt.

"I just want things to turn out right," Arnold told her.

"I want to make them right," Lila told him, touching his hair. Lightly, she kissed his cheek. Helga could sense the smile that must have played on his face and it caused a boil in her bloodstream. A slow intake of breath and she was able to remain calm. She got better at keeping her temper--more often than not, anyway.

Lila's phone vibrated in its spot on the couch, causing a rumble in the couch.

"Who is it?" Arnold asked her, apparently peering at the screen, but Lila must not have let him see because there was a pause. The vibrations were still coming.

"Uh--you know what, Arnold, could you get me something to drink while I take this? It's a friend of my father's, I…"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll go downstairs real quick. Hot cocoa?" Helga heard him rise up from his seat and scamper towards the door.

"Sure, sure," Lila said hurriedly. She must have answered because the vibrations stopped. The door closed. Arnold was out of the room.

"Eddie," Helga heard Lila hiss. Restraining a gasp, Helga held her breath to listen. Lila had gotten up and began pacing about the room.

"Eddie, I told you, if you can't commit to--what?…Eddie, slow down…you're scaring me…"

A minute or two passed before she spoke again. Eddie's voice was coming in loudly, but Helga couldn't make out what he was saying. She could sense, though, that something was wrong; severe panic rose in the atmosphere. Lila paced faster.

"Okay…yes, okay…I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? Just get there, I'll be there…no, I'm certain that I won't…see you soon."

Lila didn't sit back down. Helga saw her body pacing back and forth again, but then she exited the bedroom, leaving Helga alone. Frustrated, she let out a loud grumble now that she was alone.

--

Despite the heat being on and the kitchen being behind their table, Chez Paris' atmosphere was abnormally frosty. Arnold shivered in his seat and picked at his appetizers reluctantly. He didn't want to eat without Lila there, but she was running about forty minutes late, and the growls from Gerald's stomach could be heard on the other side of the dining room. They ordered later than they imagined they would, and even with the twenty minute wait for their food, she still hadn't arrived. With his dinner simply sitting in front of him, Arnold sighed and relaxed his elbows on the table.

"Come on Arnold, you gotta eat," his friend pushed, biting into a crab leg.

Shaking his head, Arnold pushed the pieces of shrimp around on the plate.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon," Phoebe said comfortingly, tapping his hand. For some reason, she kept smiling, but Arnold thought nothing of it. Her boyfriend was right beside her and she had a plate of excellent food; she had every reason to grin that widely.

"Should I call her again?" Arnold proposed, looking helplessly at Gerald, who shrugged.

"I think she should be the one to call _you_, man. I smell something fishy--and it ain't that shrimp."

--

Helga sat cross-legged on Rhonda's bedroom floor in purple pajamas; furry white slippers on her feet and her hair resting on her shoulders. It was beautifully naturally straight, and Rhonda had always bugged her to let it out of its usual half-ponytail, so she took the ties out to satisfy her. Rhonda spent a good twenty minutes just running her fingers through the lengthy blonde locks.

"Did Phoebe text you yet?" she asked for the twelfth time in the last hour.

"I woulda _told_ you if she had, wouldn't I?"

"Well I'm getting anxious!"

Helga turned to face her and scowled; the motion pulled her hair out of Rhonda's grasp. "And you think I'm _not_?"

Frowning, Rhonda sighed. "I'm sorry…I just wish I knew what was going on."

After a long groan, Helga heard her phone beeping, the signal of a new text message. Hopeful, she sprang up from her spot on the floor and opened the cellular.

_Lila's not here. It's been almost two hours. We're ordering dessert. No word from her_.

Helga turned and smirked at Rhonda, showing her the message.

"Damn…so where _is_ she?"

"Beats me," Helga grunted, sitting back on the floor.

"Who would know where she is?"

"I can think of _one_ person," Helga began, eyeing Rhonda knowingly, "but problem is, we dunno how to reach him, and we couldn't just _ask_ him if we did…"

"If she's with Eddie…someone _he_ knows might know," Rhonda said brightly, raising a finger.

"But if she's not, we're stuck," Helga droned, thinking of the worst, but then perked up. "If they're together…there's a good chance his sister would know."

--

There was no way he could stomach another bite. The cheesecake was sinfully delicious, but each forkful gave him the urge to vomit. Every time he glanced up at Phoebe and Gerald touching hands and feeding each other, his nausea worsened. With a great sigh, Arnold made the decision to escape. He rose from his seat and exhaled slowly.

"You're leaving _now_?"

"I can't sit here any longer."

"Oh, don't go alone," Phoebe squeaked, outstretching her arm to him. "We'll be done soon, we'll go with you!"

"Come on man, don't just leave!" Gerald pressed, sounding more worried than annoyed.

"Thanks, guys, you're great, but her just…standing me up like this just…" he flopped his arms at his sides and stared at the ceiling.

Gerald furrowed his brow. "Man, I'm really sorry--she really blew it this time."

"I just have to get outta here--rethink this thing," Arnold said, rummaging through his pockets. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and set it on the table. "Tell Jacques the shrimp was great."

--

From the look of it, no one was home. No cars in the driveway. No dogs barking, no light from a television set in any of the windows. Only one light was on; the bedroom on the far left on the second floor. Eva's room.

"So what, we just…knock on the door?" Rhonda asked Helga.

"_Doi_, what else do we do?"

"W-What if it's the wrong address? It doesn't look like anyone's home," Rhonda muttered, pulling her coat tighter about her torso.

"Fuzzy Slippers knows his stuff. Besides, she's _our_ age, she's gotta be home--not like she can _drive _anywhere…"

The two girls stood in their pajamas on the front porch, debating whether or not to question Eddie's sister. If they wanted to know, they had no choice. Helga accepted this quicker than Rhonda, shrugged and rang the doorbell. Eva appeared before them immediately, also in pajamas. She raised an eyebrow. Sid had been right; she looked very much like her brother when you looked closely enough.

"…May I…help you?" she asked, looking from Helga to Rhonda.

"You got a brother named Eddie, right?" Helga asked plainly, hands on her hips.

"Yeah, but he doesn't live here, his house is a couple streets over," Eva asked, folding her arms and leaning against the doorway.

"Well--do you know if he's with a girl named Lila right now?" Rhonda asked her.

"And that's your business because…"

Helga wasn't in the mood to deal with an attitude, so impatiently she stated, "Look, we just need to know where she is, and there's a good chance she's with _him_, so, if you just cough up some details, we'll leave you alone, _okay_?"

Eva relaxed her arms and said, "Eddie checked himself into the hospital a while ago--he got into some accident driving home from study group and got hurt, Lila probably went to go see him. I can't imagine she'd stayed there long though, my mom just left to see him and she wouldn't wanna cross paths."

"Why would she leave if your parents were there?" Rhonda asked, but Helga looked thoughtful.

Eva gave her a knowing look and shook her head. "He's got a girlfriend, and neither of them like her, but they don't think he should be talking to other girls while he's in a relationship."

"What've they got against Lila?" Helga asked, already knowing the answer.

"Have you _seen _how she acts with him?" Eva asked, then paused. "Don't act like you don't already know. Why _else_ would you think Lila's with him?"

Helga cocked her head to the side and Rhonda cleared her throat.

"If you wanna know anything else, I can't help you," Eva added. "I don't know who his real girlfriend is. Even if I did, I couldn't tell her about Eddie--he'd probably kill me, and I'm being totally serious."

Rhonda glanced anxiously at Helga, who nodded. "Well, thanks for your time sister."

Eva nodded back and waved as they left the porch, but then called them back. The girls turned around.

"If you _do_ find out who his girlfriend is…could you make sure she finds out the truth?"

Helga's eyes softened. She didn't know how to voice the agreement, so she simply smiled. Rhonda grabbed her arm and they walked back to the limo.

--

No one ever called Arnold in the middle of the night. Unless, of course, there was some sort of emergency in the boarding house that he needed to get under control, but that rarely happened these days. That night, though, someone needed to talk to him, and it wasn't anyone in the Sunset Arms.

"Lila…?" he breathed, gazing at her name on the screen of his cell. Instantly wide awake, he chirped, "Hey, Lila, what--"

"I'm sorry to call so late," she began, speaking quickly. "I kept thinking about earlier and I didn't want to you think I ditched you or--"

"Lila," he said, sitting upright, "just--tell me what happened, please. Why didn't you show up?"

"My father was in the hospital, he got into an accident, I _had_ to go see him!" she explained, her voice shaking. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I left your house, I thought I could go home and get ready and just come to dinner, but--but I was ever so worried, I _had_ to see him, I'm--I'm ever so sorry, you must have been so upset!"

_I definitely was_, Arnold thought to himself, but he just couldn't be now. At least, he couldn't tell her how terrible he felt. After all, she sounded truly sorry, and he was always quick to have mercy. "Don't worry about it, Lila, just…next time something like that happens, I'd appreciate it if you told me what was going on."

Her voice slowed down a little after he heard her exhale. "I'm certain I'll remember that for the future."

"Thanks," Arnold said, feeling a smile start. "Goodnight, Lila. I hope your dad is okay."

"Thank you, Arnold," she told him, and hung up. Arnold sighed, resting back onto his mattress. He wondered to himself if she was really telling the truth, remembering what Helga said about how she would mess up the opportunities he would give to her. Lila hadn't suggested anything to make up for missing dinner, he noticed, but decided that he would contemplate things further in the morning.

--

As the month of March carried on, Helga's life quickly began to revolve solely around the Football Head and Miss Perfect. Thanks to the excessive detective work, she knew about every meeting, every date, every party, every school-related event that they planned together--and made sure she could make appearances at them, either secretly or openly. It had gotten to the point where she constantly wore clothes with pockets, so that she could carry the tiny tape recorder around with her at all times. She observed the two of them carefully, analyzing their every moves and their every words. She was beginning to notice patterns in Lila's behavior with Arnold--first, a calm and comforted attitude, satisfaction, then anxiety, then a disappearing act, ending in indifference when she returned, if she did at all. Lila seemed to always leave Arnold confused and worried. While listening to the tapes, Helga began to notice how Lila's tales of her whereabouts didn't always match up. She would mix up dates or "forget" where she was, and often, Arnold would catch her. Lila was becoming less and less of a good liar, and Helga couldn't be any more delighted.

"We're getting so close, guys, we're bound to catch her soon," Helga told Rhonda and Phoebe one day in very early April. The three of them spent the first weekend of the month recounting all of their findings and comparing discoveries. It had been hours since anything particularly or obviously outstanding came up, and Rhonda, for one, had grown extremely impatient with the matter.

"We'd better," the raven-haired girl said bitterly, flipping through a magazine on the couch. "I'm sick of playing Cops and Robbers with this girl."

"If we could even call it that," Phoebe said off-handedly, typing information from her notebooks on her computer.

"Well, until we catch her, there's nothing we _can_ do but play Cops and Robbers," Helga pointed out. "Pheebs, what's the next thing they got planned?"

Phoebe stopped typing and turned in her seat to face Helga, smiling. "The eleventh is the talent show, and I'm certain that Arnold will be doing something."

A severe chill went shooting up Helga's spine as she pictured the fair-haired boy under softened lights upon the stage, hammering at the keyboard to deliver some ethereal melody to an eager audience. He was no Handel, but he had plenty of skill when it came to piano, and she hadn't the pleasure of hearing him play more than only a couple of times. Even if she were on her deathbed, she wouldn't miss his performance. There wasn't much Arnold took pride in other than being a walking advice column, but music had come close. If Lila missed the show, he'd definitely be crushed…

"Helga?"

"What?" she shook her head. Lately, her thoughts absorbed her more than they ever had in the past.

"I said, do you think we could?" Phoebe said patiently, peering at Helga over the rims of her glasses.

"Could what?"

Rhonda huffed and puffed and tossed her magazine on the night table. "We said if we could make her miss his act, it'd be over."

"We don't want it to be _over_, we want her _caught_!"

"Over for Arnold's _trust_, we mean," Phoebe explained. "I've composed a graph based on Arnold's level of patience compared to the number of times Lila's disappointed him. This little mark here"--she pointed to a green sign on the screen, "--signifies that this next time, he'll be on the brink of a breakdown, but he won't be totally finished, not until she finally is exposed, which will put him over the edge, meaning we will have achieved success."

"So in plain English," Rhonda began slowly, "this all means that this time is gonna be the last time, and if she does anything to let him after this--"

"And that anything will be Eddie," Helga butt in, rubbing her hands together.

"--he'll be done, and really will want to move on from her," Rhonda finished, observing the graph.

"That's basically it," said Phoebe, closing the window on the screen and turning in her rolling chair.

"So we make her miss his performance--then what?"

"Then we have our biggest task yet," Helga began, sitting on the floor. "we create the ideal scenario--put the three of them in the same place at the same time, wait til Miss Perfect and Gordo are alone, and make sure Arnold walks in and sees them, preferably with their lips all over each other."

"And just _how_ are we going to accomplish that?" Rhonda asked skeptically.

"Once she misses the talent show," Helga started, slyly, "the play is her last shot at redemption."


	16. Give Her One More Shot

**Beforehand**--That last must not have been too exciting, I apologize. You're getting to the goods, though. As always, thanks much for the reviews and for taking the time to read. The fans of this fic keep me going at it. 3 Happy reading, loves.

I just noticed--what's with me and E's? I gave "E" names to my characters. Elena…Eddie…Eva. Weird. I don't know an Eddie personally, but Eddy Gordo is the name of a Tekken (I think) character that my personal friend makes references to. I used it because the name has a cool ring to it. I named Miss Hawkins after a friend of mine, and Eva is named for one of my friends from my childhood. Just thought I'd throw some fun facts in there. Don't mind me.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Elena Hawkins (totally forgot she's mine) and Eddie and Eva Gordo belong to me; all other fictional characters and places are property of Craigy B.

**Chapter 16**: Give Her One More Shot

Miss Hawkins sat quietly at her desk that afternoon during lunch period, skimming the revisions of the script to _My Best Friend's Wedding_and sipping from her coffee mug every ten or so seconds. The way she drummed her fingers next to the computer's keyboard must have signified a slight anxiety. Helga walked nearer to the desk with her book bag slung over her shoulder. She could smell her expectancy as if it were emanating from the mug. She knew that Elena was well aware of her presence, but she had to leave it up to her to speak first. Say not a word until your elder does. It was the way Elena Hawkins worked, and Helga had no problem obeying her unwritten rules. Probably because she had the same ones.

Miss Hawkins cleared her throat. Slowly, she removed her reading glasses and folded her hands under her chin. Peering over at Helga, she grinned. "I had a feeling."

She walked closer reluctantly and the woman pleasantly asked her to have a seat. The blonde girl obliged, dropping her bag and settling into the desk right in front of her.

"Is there something you need, Helga, or do you just want my company?" she humored.

"I got a favor to ask, actually," Helga said plainly, stern.

"Anything for my star."

"I need all the details you got on the talent show Friday."

Miss Hawkins smiled slowly and paused for a moment. "This is about Arnold, isn't it?"

"_This_ is a golden opportunity to make him learn that he's wasting his _time_," Helga made clear.

A wiggle of the eyebrows and a sip of coffee, then the teacher said, "Still playing that game with Miss Sawyer, I see."

"I wouldn't call it a _game_, Elena, I call it being a friend," Helga told her.

"I admire your saintliness, Helga Pataki," Elena began, hinting sarcasm, and added, "but it's impossible to be the rescuer here. Surely you know there are some things you _can't_ save anyone from, like heartache?"

_Why does everyone have that same idea?_ Helga asked herself in her mind, aggravated. Impatiently, she told her, "But I _can_ prevent it from hurting too much."

"That may be so, darling," Elena said fondly, her voice growing softer, "but you're toying with the emotions of three different persons here. Though the objective is admirable…it's still a game."

If there was an argument for that, Helga didn't know of it, so she pouted in her seat and then demanded, "Just tell me what time Arnold is scheduled to go on."

"You're going to tell Lila it's different than what it is," she predicted.

"What time does he go on?" Helga persisted, getting up from the desk and leaning onto hers.

Blinking slowly, Elena Hawkins smiled weakly. "Eight fifteen."

"_Thanks_," Helga forced to say politely, and gathered her things.

"Helga."

Sending blonde locks whirling about her shoulders as she turned around, Helga faced her teacher with a hard look, expecting a scolding. It wasn't what she got.

"Be smart about it."

--

They seemed to have the kind of romance every ninth-grader in the city idealized. Frequent walks around the neighborhood, dinner at each other's houses, picnics in Geraldfield, phone calls before bed and before school started in the morning, and a lot of laughter and kisses on the cheek. They held hands wherever they walked, and they walked nearly everywhere; to and from school, their homes, the park, and where she worked. They fed each other playfully at the lunch table and she came to see him practice for the play and for the talent show when she had her days off. He'd often go into Bigal's during her work hours to get a frappuccino, even if he wasn't in the mood for one. He was a gentleman and she was a lady, and it only made sense that they were together. The only thing that puzzled everyone was the fact that Arnold and Lila weren't using the terms of boyfriend and girlfriend.

He asked the redhead often why they weren't official, and she often gave the reply that what they had "didn't require a label." While he thought being called someone's girlfriend wasn't necessarily the tag that she saw it as, he respected her decision, although it made him uncomfortable. There had to be more reason than that. Arnold thought of several possibilities, but those possibilities were the stuff of bad dreams, and he couldn't bring himself to consider them.

As of late, things with Lila had grown more smoothly than they had been before. She stopped making excuses and she stopped bailing on him. She hadn't canceled plans or left early from a get-together in a good week or two, and this was either a sign that she was getting more attached or just getting better at whatever game she was playing. Stinky had been the one to give him a warning about it after Arnold vocally noticed this change.

"I'mma be straight with you, Arnold," Stinky had told him one day. "Lila's played her fair share o' games. I'd hate to see you get caught up in one of 'em."

"Thanks for your concern, Stinky," Arnold said back, "but I'm pretty sure she's being sincere with me now."

The other boy shrugged. "Just be careful, Arnold."

_Was_ there something to watch out for, though? For the first time in what seemed like forever, Lila was acting like a normal girlfriend would--well, minus the title. Why couldn't she take that title, though? What was holding her back? Something had to have been. Arnold thought about it all that Friday night. Tying his tie and smoothing his dress shirt in the mirror, he continued to ponder. What if Stinky was right? What if there was something--or more terribly, _someone_--that he had to worry about?

A knock upon his bedroom door threw him off.

"Come on in," the blonde boy said hoarsely. He realized then that he hadn't said anything aloud in hours.

"Hey, man, you ready for this?" Gerald strode into his room, looking sharp in a grey dress shirt and black slacks.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Arnold answered. "Are Lila and Phoebe--"

"They're meeting us there," he said brightly. "Now come on, you don't wanna be late for your own show, let's get outta here."

--

"We really couldn't have done it without her, you know."

Rhonda and Helga relaxed with bottles of Yahoo! in the back of the limo. It was nearing eight o' clock, and Arnold's act was coming up next. The chauffer was speeding through the neighborhood in order to get the girls to the school on time.

"So you changed her clock?"

"Her phone is set an hour behind," Helga replied devilishly, clutching her bottle.

"So by eight fifteen…"

"She'll have her lips all over Eddie, thinking it's seven while Arnold's singing his heart out, imagining that she's adoring him from the crowd--"

"--and he'll be rudely awakened at intermission when Phoebe tells him that she didn't show."

"Exactly."

Rhonda laid down across the seat and sighed, satisfied. Lifting her head slightly, she looked at her friend and asked, "Were we always this conniving?"

With a shrug, Helga told her, "For a good cause." She took a swig of the soda.

Nodding, Rhonda agreed. "Frankly, I'm surprised Eva wanted to help out."

"I'm not complaining."

"Neither am I, I mean, it would have been hard to arrange for them to meet tonight if she didn't do something."

"We're lucky."

"Yeah," Rhonda agreed again. "What do you think Arnold will do?"

Helga took another slow swig of soda and stared out the window.

--

It was like a train wreck; she just couldn't look away. She couldn't turn a deaf ear to it either, even if she wanted to. Arnold was actually yelling at her, and he could be heard all the way down the back hall. Helga stood there listening to the argument in plain view, outside the auditorium doors, but neither of them were aware of her presence. Lila seemed to be on the brink of tears, but so was Arnold. The show was really that important to him that he was _that_ upset she missed it. And why did she miss it? Because Stinky was right. Stinky saw her at the park with that boy, that familiar face they all knew Arnold recognized. He saw Lila kiss him. She kept denying it, saying that Stinky had no proof, but Arnold said he trusted his friend. He had Sid to back him up, too. How could she lie?

Arnold had never sounded more upset. It hurt, actually, to see him like that. Helga had half a mind to go over there and do _something_, but she didn't know what. It wouldn't be smart, anyway, but it was definitely physically painful to see him cry. It could be worse, though. She saw Arnold say something calmly, throw a towel on the floor, and shake his head. That was it, he was probably telling her that this was the last straw. It's all over now. Lila buried her face in her hands and turned and ran further down the hall, out of Helga's sight. Oh yeah, it was all over. Arnold threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, then ran his hands through his hair. Slowly, he sat down on the floor with his back to the wall and just stared ahead of himself. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. The tears rolling down his face were noticeable even from the distance. As much as she wanted to go over and comfort him, she couldn't let him know she was there. She knew nothing. Her head told her to walk away quickly and she listened. It was better this way.

--

The first performance of _My Best Friend's Wedding_ was twenty-four hours ahead, and Helga spent all of her free time with Arnold, Park, and the rest of Miss Hawkins' theater students in the auditorium. Dress rehearsals took place at seven o' clock sharp every evening and the fifty or so teens would take a dinner break in the hall after the first act. Helga and Arnold were practically inseparable those nights at practice, but she wasn't as happy about it as she predicted she'd be. All the boy could do when he wasn't on stage was mope about Miss Not-So Perfect Anymore.

"Does that make me a bad guy?" Arnold had asked her Thursday night, over pizza. He was going on about the fight he'd had with Lila as Helga basically stuffed her face.

"What?" she asked bluntly, food in her cheek.

"That I don't believe her," he repeated, forgetting that he'd gone through the story a dozen times.

She shrugged, annoyed. "You had two of your _trustworthy_ friends tell you they _saw_ her kiss him. I wouldn't believe her either."

"Of _course_ you wouldn't believe her," Arnold said, reproachful, randomly turning the tables. "You hate her!"

"Dammit, _Arnoldo_, you asked my opinion, and I gave it to you!" she retorted, slamming her fist on the table. "For your _information_, I woulda said the same thing if she were anybody _else_; would you really believe her over Stinky and Sid--especially considering the circumstances?"

The circles under Arnold's eyes seemed to have darkened drastically as he pondered this. There was no physical evidence, but there _was_ the word of his closes friends since elementary school against that of a girl who confused the hell out of him. Sighing, he wrung his hands and gazed at her. "I'm sorry, Helga, I just…I'm just not sure, you know? I really don't know who to believe…"

"You can't believe _everyone_," she told him, avoiding his gaze. It hurt to see the physical signs of his exhaustion.

"I wish I could," he practically whined. "I can't do this, Helga, I want to be with her, but…I just don't know if I can trust her."

"If you can't _trust_ her, all she's gonna cause you is trouble," she said confidently, taking another bite of pizza.

"I know," he said lowly, staring down at the floor. "What should I do, Helga?"

Finally, she looked at him, right in the eyes. Their olive green hue had darkened, making them look more brown than ever. Funny how his irises changed colors with his moods. Helga couldn't think of anyone else with eyes like his. She sighed.

"What would _you_ do?"

Biting her lip, the blonde lowered her gaze and found herself looking at his hands, still wrung together in confusion, signifying a feeling of hopelessness. A gesture that clearly said the words "I'm lost." He needed her to find him and she didn't have to search.

"…You want to be with her?" she asked him, already mindful of the answer.

Arnold nodded.

Sighing, she said as patiently as she could, "If you're sure…give her one more shot. Just _one_ more. If she doesn't let you down, she's yours."

"What do--"

"Tell her to come tomorrow night," she said quickly, her voice growing in volume. "First showing. Ask her to be your girlfriend when the play's over. Her answer is all you need. She says no, she's out. You're done. You're in it either all or nothing, Football Head, and if she can't give it all…"

For the first time in hours, Arnold smiled. The swirls of gold and green in his eyes brightened slightly and he patted her hand, then let it sit atop hers. "You're wonderful, Helga Pataki."

The predictable behavioral pattern followed his words involuntarily--the nearly inconspicuous sigh, the stammering, and then the backlash, complete with threats of planting laxatives in his water bottle on opening night if he ever touched her again. Laughing, Arnold got up from the table as she sank in her seat and crossed her arms, thanking her again for her advice. Helga smirked as she watched him make his way back into the auditorium. He'd be thanking her for more later on.

--

"_Why_--WHY would you do that?!"

"Put a _sock_ in it, _Princess_, it's all part of our plan."

"No, no, no no _no_, not _our _plan. Not _our_ plan, you're turning it into _your_ plan, not--"

"_My_ plan _is _our plan, you idiot, would you just chill--"

"_Chill out_? Chill _out_! Oh, listen Phoebe, she wants me to _chill out_, after all the hard work I--"

"_We_--"

"WHATEVER, you messed everything up _again_!"

"Actually, I just saved ourselves a ton of work, so you should be thanking me right now, Rhonda Lloyd."

It was a good thing the courtyard was completely deserted after school had let out, otherwise several ears might have heard about questionable plots to sabotage someone's potential relationship. Rhonda was certainly screaming loudly enough for anyone within ten yards to eavesdrop without trying very hard. Helga, on the other hand, was quite cool and collected, and in a peculiarly merry mood for having told Arnold to take another chance on Lila.

"Okay, if you're such a genius, Einstein, what's gonna happen tomorrow when Lila shows up to watch this stupid play of yours, huh?"

Smirking, Helga replied, "Oh, she won't be doing much watching, Rhonda."

"What do you--"

"I have a feeling there's gonna be a little bit of a distraction."

--

Eddie Gordo was home alone that night, Helga guessed, due to the lack of a car in the driveway and the darkness in the windows. It was barely four in the afternoon when she reached his house, and she went through the plot a hundred times over in her head as she cautiously made her way to the front porch. Upon ringing the doorbell, she smoothed her shirt and pulled the small portion of hair she'd put up out of its tie. She was going to have to look convincing as well as act as such.

Eddie didn't seem happy to see her after he opened the door. Crossing his arms and giving her a once-over, he said, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I gotta favor to ask," she told him bluntly.

"And what makes you think I'd do one for you?" he asked, stubborn. Clearly, he hadn't forgotten their run-in at the dance a couple of months earlier.

"Because I've got the key to something that you want--maybe, still," Helga told him, using an underlining seductive tone. "I won't know until you give some answers."

"Is this about who I _think_ it's about?" he asked, his voice lowering. He stepped closer to her.

"Who else would it be about?" she tested him.

Looking about himself, Eddie shoved one hand into his pocket and backed up against his door, extending his other arm to the foyer. "Step inside."

From the outside, Eddie's home didn't seem the type to be luxurious in the least, but upon entering the opening hallway, Helga faced a living room polished and furnished enough to rival the Lloyds'. The carpet was a unique shade of blue, and sitting atop it were black leather couches and a couple of glass tables.

"Please excuse the mess, we haven't vacuumed in a few days," Eddie said simply, closing the front door.

"Hard to tell," Helga said honestly, wandering the living room in astonishment. It was basically bare, with the exception of the extravagant fireplace and a few paintings and photographs on the walls. The giant window allowed soft light to fall upon the enchanting pieces of art. Helga smirked as she studied one particular watercolor piece next to the fireplace of a dark, mystic forest. Eddie couldn't have been that bad a person if he was going to have a home adorned with things like this.

"Pretty picture, isn't it?"

Helga turned quickly, forgetting what she'd come there for momentarily, and answered, "Oh--yeah, it's…really, really nice."

"My dad did it--well, my real dad--like a million years ago, when I was a kid."

"You don't live with your _real_ dad?" Helga asked, not caring how personal the question was. He didn't seem to mind.

"He and my mom divorced when I was really young. I haven't seen him since then. I don't remember much about him, except that he was an artist. He sent me this painting for my sixteenth birthday, last year. That was the last time I ever heard from him."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He died last summer."

A cloud might as well have hung over her head and started pouring rain, because Helga suddenly felt extremely gloomy. "Oh, I'm--sorry."

Eddie shrugged and looked hard at the painting. "It's okay. I don't care that much, honestly. I hardly knew him--John's great, though. I just wish he and mom could have worked things out."

"When'd they split?" Helga asked.

"Same time my real dad died. I guess my mom just wasn't really over him, and John got really upset. I stayed here, with him, because my mom just…pisses me off. And Eva just reminds me more of her, so I made sure she didn't come here. I'm fine with just John."

"You don't talk to your mom much?"

Eddie shrugged again and looked at Helga. "Not after I started seeing Lila, after my father died."

Helga felt her stomach tighten into a few knots. "Why did you start seeing her when you have a girlfriend?"

Eddie raised both his eyebrows and sighed. "That's why you came, hm?"

She nodded.

Eddie settled himself on one of the couches and gestured for her to take a seat too. She obliged and crossed one leg over the other as she leaned back.

"I started dating my girlfriend a long time ago. She's older; much older, a teacher, and I don't see her much. I told her that I still wanted to be her boyfriend, but I didn't want to commit. Gets lonely, you know. I'm young; she understands. I told her about Lila recently, and she approves. She knows what kind of girl Lila is--the good parts, anyway. My mother doesn't approve of me seeing her while I'm still technically in a relationship, but neither I nor John see a problem. Lila, however, wants to be the only woman in my life. She just can't be, so she--"

"Plays the same game you're playing," Helga finished, feeling slightly nauseated.

Eddie chuckled and reached into the bowl on the table in front of him for a mint. "Not exactly. I may be a cheater, but at least I don't lie about it."

This was true, Helga admitted, wiggling one of her legs.

"Now, what do you need me for, hm? Am I a pawn in your little scheme here to expose her for what she is?"

Hesitating, Helga mistakably allowed herself to look surprised, but said, "Arnold needs to see that she's--"

"Fickle? Indecisive? A two-timer?"

Confused, Helga lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward in her seat. "Well--I--"

"You want her off your man, don't you?" he guessed, also leaning forward. "You want to make her out to be a little scheeze so that you can have this guy all to yourself."

_Criminey, what gives?_ Helga thought, widening her eyes. Eddie laughed.

"It's okay, if it's a secret, I won't tell. But, I must say, humiliating her would be oh-too much fun--good payback for ditching me for him so many times. Just tell me your plan and I'll do whatever you want."

Skeptically, Helga leaned back again, wondering whether or not this boy was really sincere or looking for a way to turn it around on her. Eddie must have guessed that she wasn't quick to trust, because he rose from the couch and sat beside her.

"I'm a selfish guy…I want Lila to myself. You want Arnold to yourself. Now…" Eddie slung an arm around Helga's shoulder and met her with puppy dog eyes. "…why wouldn't I help you with that, hm?"


	17. Barely Breathing

**Beforehand**--Thanks for all that feedback, you guys :) I've noticed some of you are trying to put some of the pieces together--there are some good guesses, but you'll have to read on to see if you're right or not. This is the big one here, so get comfortable and heat up some popcorn. Happy reading, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Craigy B owns all dis sheeeeeet. (except Elena Hawkins and the Gordo kids)

**Chapter 17**: Barely Breathing

The lights were out; no one was home. Or so, that's what it looked like as Arnold approached Lila's stoop. Every curtain was drawn in and the car was absent from the driveway. Either she went somewhere with her father, or she was in the house by herself, asleep. She hadn't been answering her phone, so Arnold guessed that she was ignoring him. He didn't blame her, since he'd been a little harsh, but she couldn't avoid him anymore--not before he knew if there any hope left.

Arnold rang the bell several times before she answered the door. Slowly, she pulled it open, meeting his eyes with a cold, dark stare.

"I thought you weren't going to come for a minute there," he said sheepishly, shrinking under her glare.

"I've been mean enough to you, Arnold," she sighed sincerely, although her eyes were still icy. "I should be the one on _your _doorstep…"

"No, no, it's my fault, Lila," he said quickly, taking her hand. The girl stiffened, but her eyes softened. "Listen, I just…I really, really like you--"

"And I like you, Arnold," she said, smiling weakly, giving him her other hand. He took that one too.

"--and I just…I gotta let you know, I'm in it, but it's…"

It was difficult to say. _All or nothing_. Helga had been right, that was what he wanted. There was no other accurate wording. He stared deeply into her eyes, probing, feeling the light of the moon glinting in them. He had to say it.

"It's all or nothing, Lila, you and me," he told her fiercely, his hands trembling in hers. "Nobody else. I can't be a backup plan or a guy on the side. It just…won't fly with me. Either you have me all the way, or you don't…" his eyes shifted and he breathed in slowly, then exhaled, "...at all."

Lila bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "…Arnold, I--"

"Just show me, Lila," he said softly.

She stared at her feet, then looked quickly back up at him. "How?"

He started releasing his grasp. "The play's tomorrow. Seven."

"Why does--"

"Whether or not you show up will determine your answer," he explained, having let go of her hands.

"Arnold…" she started, stepping to him, but he backed away and began walking down the stairs.

"Don't, Lila. Tomorrow." With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the street, leaving the redhead to ponder on her stoop.

--

Helga was thirteen when her parents stopped coming to watch her. From choir concerts to talent shows to theater productions, Bob and Miriam missed out on all of them. Bob would be at some mandatory meeting, or more likely out with some of his business partners, and Miriam would make up some lame excuse not to go and sit at home moping and drinking. Whenever Olga was in town, though, she would come to see her sister, even though Helga frequently told her not to bother. Olga insisted, however, and that night promised that she'd make it there--it was her first performance in high school, after all. She couldn't miss it. And tonight, oddly enough, Helga wanted her there.

--

She was the last person Helga expected. Looking at her, she would never have dreamed it, not in a hundred years. A twenty-seven year old beautiful, successful, talented, adored and respected high school teacher could never, ever do something like it. It was disgusting, terrible, unlawful, unethical, and…brilliant. Convenient. Priceless. The answer to Helga's prayers. Her own sister, dating the key to Lila's downfall. No wonder Lila couldn't get Eddie all to herself; nobody _ever_ wins if they're up against Nobel-prize-winning Olga Pataki.

"Please promise me you won't tell anybody, baby sister," Olga begged her the night before the play. She'd been at Eddie's when she found out; Olga had the key to his house and would show up on nights when John was working and she was in town. Eddie wasn't lying when he said they didn't have a lot of time together.

"It'll be our little secret," she promised. She didn't have a choice--if she blew it for Olga, Eddie would most certainly blow it for her. He'd break it off completely and leave Lila with no one to latch onto but Arnold; Helga would lose completely.

"You keep my secret and I'll keep yours," he told Helga menacingly. It was a demand, not a request, but she was more than happy to oblige.

"This can't leak to the public, or even Mommy and Daddy, or else my career will be in shambles," Olga whined, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'd be ruined, and I'd never be able to see Eddie again!" A loud screech, and then she began wailing. Eddie slung a comforting arm about her shoulder and whispered soothingly, stroking her bottle-blonde hair.

"Will you shut _up_?" Helga snapped, feeling alarmingly uncomfortable. "I don't plan on telling anyone that my sister likes little boys, so if anything happens, it's on _you_ guys, not me."

Olga heaved and caught her breath, exchanging looks with Eddie. He let go of her upper body reluctantly and both of them stared at Helga expectantly.

"I'll give you the blueprints to the plan on the way to the show tomorrow," she began. "Eddie, you know what to do, _you_ take care of Lila--and all _you_ gotta do is keep your _cool_, Olga. It'll be over in minutes."

Heaving and huffing, Olga Pataki wiped her face with the handkerchief Eddie passed to her and sniffled, "What do we have to do?"

--

It was easy enough a plan that a couple of monkeys could carry it out. The curtain would rise, the show would go on, and Eddie would take his seat was right next to Lila's. A little fondling here and canoodling there, and soon her lips would be all over his. Sheena volunteered to patrol the aisles that night, and she knew exactly what she'd be looking for. Nadine would take her seat strategically in accordance to the couple in question, camera at the ready with night vision capability. Although it wasn't much needed; the location of their seats put them in plain sight, but it wouldn't hurt to have concrete evidence. Rhonda would sit right behind Eddie, recording the scene in the seats ahead as well as the ones played out onstage. Sid and Stinky would take seats at the back, ready to follow in case either victim planned on leaving. Olga set her watch so that she and Eddie could leave before the actors took their final bow. Exposure, escape, evidence. Simple, but not so clean. The setup didn't intend to lead Lila Sawyer into temptation; she would follow it herself. All they had to do was throw out the line, and she'd nibble the bait. Only this time, they'd be sure to reel her in.

"We're all absolutely sure we're ready?" Rhonda asked Helga over the phone. Both girls were on their way to the school for the dress rehearsal.

"Everyone's well-equipped and informed," Helga told her, glancing at Olga in the driver's seat. One hand was on the wheel and the other was on top of Eddie's.

Rhonda breathed heavily on the other end, and Helga leaned back. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Nothing, Helga…But…It's our last shot, and just--if we screw up, this is it. She wins."

"Oh, she won't be winning anything," Helga assured her fiercely.

Rhonda sighed, revealing her agitation. "I hope not. I mean, this plan is basically flawless, I just…we're actually _doing_ it. I can't believe it."

Helga stared ahead of herself, through the windshield, past Olga and Eddie, and decided that she couldn't really believe it either.

--

"All right, together, everyone, prayer circle, come on, prayer circle!" Park's voice rang through the entire backstage area as all of the actors crammed together in a huddle to hold hands.

"Hands, hold 'em tight," he said, winking at the girl next to him, and looked over at Miss Hawkins.

"You can do the honors, Miss H," he said graciously, and she accepted as such. Stepping between Arnold and Helga, the stars, she sighed deeply. Arnold saw tears rolling down her white cheeks out of the corner of his eye.

"Heavenly Father," she began, "we thank you for blessing our department with this grand opportunity and we hope not to disappoint; we thank you for guiding us and helping us through these long, hard hours of rehearsal and for giving us everything we need to put on a good show. Bless our hearts, watch over us, and help our audience to enjoy every minute of this spectacular production. Let our hard work not go to waste, and let everyone's expectations be fulfilled. No matter the outcome, we know that it will be as you willed it. Amen."

All hands were raised and tears were shed, but a subtle cheer erupted amongst the large group. Arnold hugged Miss Hawkins and then watched as she hugged Helga. He might have thought wrong, but the blonde seemed more uneasy and nerve-wracked than excited and prepared.

"Helga--are you all right?" he whispered, taking her by the arm and pulling her closer.

"I'm fine, _Arnoldo_, geez, why do you always think something's _wrong_ with me?" she grunted, irritated. She didn't pull away from him, though.

"You don't seem happy at all, aren't you excited to perform?" he asked, concerned. A small, knotted twist in his stomach told him she wasn't.

"I told you I'm _fine_, just nervous like everyone else is, now shut up and let's get it over with, okay?" she whispered, her voice cracking. She finally yanked her arm out of his grasp and smoothed her dress. The lighting was so dim backstage, but the blue in her eyes seemed to practically glow under it. Arnold felt a swelling in his chest as he looked at his friend; he was so proud of her and he had to let her know.

Several more knots formed as he smiled weakly at her. "Helga, you're gonna be great, okay? Don't worry about--"

"_Places_! Places people! _Now_! _Curtain in thirty seconds_!" Curly whispered a little loudly to everyone behind the stage. He was definitely on edge, being the only competent one of three tech people.

Helga scowled and shot Arnold a warning look and he disappeared behind the back curtain, off stage left. From his spot in the shadows, he watched the red curtains rise and the lights beam on, illuminating Helga's figure as she sat at a small table with Park. His eyes darted to the audience, and lucky for him, his position allowed him to spot Lila, seemingly giving the performance her undivided attention. His heart jumped; he believed for a moment that this was his answer, but as he glanced to her right, his hope shattered as quickly as it rose. Next to her sat a familiar boy, that brunette boy Stinky talked about. The boy his friends saw her kiss. Arnold swallowed hard as he watched him whisper something in her ear. The knots in his stomach showed no signs of easing away.

--

It was a burden being the star. Helga barely got a minute backstage by herself, and there would be no intermission, so time to gather updates was scarce. Her phone apparently received a number of messages while it sat at the dressing table backstage, all from Rhonda and Phoebe, whose eyes watched Lila like a hawk. Even Eddie dropped her a message or two, one of which caused her heart to jolt.

_She's wrapped around my finger. We're winning, Pataki._

Sinking into her actor's chair, Helga sighed and looked in the vanity to make sure she was wearing the right clothes for her upcoming scene--the big one. The scene that mattered most. Julianne's moment of truth. She fluffed the unruly, curly mess of hair she had to sport for her role and touched up her blush slightly. As she did so, a figure appeared unexpectedly in her mirror.

"_Dammit_, Phoebe!" she gasped, jumping nearly five feet in the air. "What're you _doing_ back here?"

"I had to warn you, Eddie's going in for it, he's ready," she whispered quickly, catching her breath.

"I _know_, I got his message, he's--"

"He's ready _now_," she exhaled, leaning in closely to Helga. "Eddie's gonna do it right as this next scene starts--"

_What_?"

"--He's timing it perfectly, so that Arnold can see them clearly from his entrance spot if he pays any attention--listen, you have to keep Arnold in control or else he'll lose focus!"

"_Criminey_, I want him to sabotage a _romance_, not the play too!" Helga whined, staring up at the ceiling helplessly and running her hands through the unmanageable curls.

"It's okay, Helga," Phoebe assured, rubbing her friend's arm, still speaking quickly. "Just put on your best performance, it's one more thing you can do for Arnold. Keep his focus, and it'll be okay. This is it, this what we want, we're going to win! Just be the best Julianne you can be!"

The blonde gave her a very quick, suffocating squeeze, and scrambled off stage right to prepare to go on. Phoebe disappeared into the darkness as Helga braced herself for the scene that was about to play out.

--

Arnold couldn't look back out to the audience. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Helga's, no matter what he thought he saw. Out of the corner of his eye, as he took his place under the fake gazebo on stage, he _thought_ he saw Lila Sawyer kissing that boy. He _thought_ he saw her hands on his neck, and he _thought_ he saw him touching her braids. He thought it was happening, but he couldn't be sure. He only saw a glimpse, and it wasn't even full on. Maybe he was imagining it--but if he was, why was his heart racing with worry? He could barely catch his breath as he replied properly to Helga's lines. He thought he saw a similar anxiety in her face.

"This is the dumbest thing I will ever do," she said to him, her body just inches away from his. There was a great, glistening fear in her eyes that was too intense not to be real. "So dumb, in fact, that I can't--I don't think…"

He couldn't think, either. It took all the self-control he had to keep from looking off to the side, just to check. As instructed by their script, Helga placed a hand on his chest. No way she couldn't feel the frantic thumping of his heart.

"Michael, I love you."

Arnold swallowed, looking as shocked as the script demanded.

"I've loved you for nine years, but I was too arrogant and scared to realize it--now I'm just scared."

Barely breathing, Arnold felt his throat nearly close up. Helga sounded almost too convincing, and it was clear that the fear in her eyes was definitely and positively real.

She moved closer to him, continuing her lines. "I know this comes at an inopportune time, but I have to ask this one gigantic favor, okay?"

He really couldn't catch his breath. This next line always gave him chills, and he could never understand why.

"Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy," she said quietly. The audience might not have heard her if it weren't for their microphones. If she wasn't on stage, Arnold would have believed her to be serious.

"I know, it sounds like three favors," she said for comic relief, sounding more like Helga than Julianne. "But when you think about it…"

This was it, the only thing they never practiced at any rehearsal. Miss Hawkins never allowed them to practice it, because she thought it wouldn't look real come show time. A kiss should always be natural, and it's only natural the first time you do it in a play, she had said.

Arnold couldn't have been more poorly prepared. He looked at Helga as lovingly as his state of mind could allow, and he stood still as she touched her hands to his neck and gently, passionately kissed him. The strawberry lemonade taste entered his mouth as he realized he'd enjoy it so much more if he hadn't _thought_ he saw Lila kissing that other boy.


	18. That's Life, Football Head

**Beforehand**--Thanks to you all for the wonderful feedback! Freshman year is drawing to a close here; I'm very happy (and sad) to be ending it. This chapter will be tying it all up, and then it'll be time to start sophomore year. I'm very excited to be making this saga (if it can be called that) and I'm happy you all are loving it. Happy reading loves--this is the end. For now, at least ;)

**Dis-claym-urr**: Every fictional character and place mentioned in this belongs to Craig Bartlett, with the exceptions of Elena Hawkins and Eddie and Eva Gordo.

**Chapter 18**: That's Life, Football Head

She walked towards the classroom slowly. The door was wide open, as it usually was during lunch period. As if Elena Hawkins expected her to come in there every day. The last day of school should be no different. The poster of classroom rules was staring back at her. Light from the windows inside poured onto the hallway floor. Like some gate to Heaven, or something, Helga had thought. She got closer and finally reached the doorway.

Elena was cleaning the room, ridding her desk of all of the papers and notebooks and closing up her laptop computer. Helga debated on whether or not to just turn around and go to lunch, but her legs carried her into the room, towards her desk. Upon hearing her footsteps, Miss Hawkins turned to face her, smiling.

"Come to say goodbye?"

Helga cocked her head to the side and folded her arms. "I'll have you for Theater II, Elena."

"It'll be a long wait."

"Not _that_ long."

"Time goes by so slowly for me."

"Most older people say the opposite," Helga told her, sitting on top of one of the first desks.

"Well, as you might agree, I'm not like most older people," Elena told her, grinning. Usually her smile brightened her face, but this time, it remained as pallid as ever.

Still with her arms folded, Helga looked at the ground and asked her, "Elena, I was just--wondering--do you think the--whole Arnold and Lila thing--what we did--the setup at the play--do you think--"

"If it was wrong?"

Helga looked up at her expectantly, and the woman's smile vanished. She walked in front of her desk and sat atop of it, matching Helga's pose.

"Well…you put your sister in danger of being revealed as a pedophile, you got more people involved than necessary, you invaded the privacy of three young teens, you plotted a setup to humiliate a girl, _and_ you put Arnold's performance at risk by seeing that it was done in the open audience."

Helga furrowed her brow and bit at her bottom lip, staring hard at Elena. The lady's face softened.

"But it turned out all right. Didn't it?"

Helga thought. Sure, the rumors about Lila were terrible, and it was even more terrible that all of Helga's friends were the ones who started them, and the girl was so humiliated that she didn't come to school for a while after spring break. On top of that, Arnold had been so distraught by all of it that he didn't come to school the next week after the play, but he seemed to be fine after their week off. He had even spoken to Helga about all of it and said that he was fine now.

"Everyone pretty much let it all slide after the break," Helga said softly, averting her gaze to the window.

Elena walked to her student and smiled, pulling her in for a hug. "That's it, then. Everything is okay in the end."

---

Arnold exited through the doors of Hillwood High School on the last day of ninth grade feeling light on his feet. He hadn't dreamed that he'd be happy about the school year drawing to a close, especially with so many of his friends leaving for vacation, but it was truly a relief to escape the confinements of that building. So many rumors and slander had slapped him in the face between the walls of the school, and he had been counting down the days to the ending since April. The talk of Lila and her scandalous endeavors with Arnold and Eddie Gordo earned her a pretty terrible reputation, and Arnold had just been sick of being associated with it. She really wasn't a bad person, when he looked at it at the end of every day, but he was hurt and betrayed, so he didn't do anything to help her recover. He was a fall-back plan, coming in at second place on her list, which was probably the only true thing about it all, and it hurt worse than everything else. He didn't feel guilty about not making it better. As much as he denied it out loud, he believed she deserved what she got.

"Hey man, you ready for tonight?" Gerald asked him, grabbing his shoulder as he walked to the bus stop. The two friends had been planning a baseball game at Geraldfield to celebrate the beginning of summer break with a party afterward.

"Yeah, yeah, it'll be good to have some fun," Arnold agreed, feeling even lighter. As long as he didn't have to see Lila, he'd be happy, but he couldn't say that out loud.

"Yeah, before everyone leaves, ya know?" Gerald said, his smiling fading a little. Arnold slung a comforting arm about his shoulder. He knew he was feeling bummed about Phoebe.

"You're gonna miss her, huh?"

Gerald shrugged. "It's only a month or whatever, I know, but it's really far away…and--she _is_ my girl."

"She'll call, I'm sure," Arnold assured him, believing it himself. "She can't last more than three days without talking to you, you know."

Smiling a little, Gerald nodded. "Yeah, she's so good. It just sucks, man, I can't see her til July. I wanted to take her to the carnival, you know? See some fireworks."

Arnold frowned and removed his arm as the bus pulled up in front of them. While boarding, he said to his friend, "It'll be okay. You guys are really close, I'm sure this will be nothing. Besides, think of it, you have a month to work on stuff, you know, get a summer job or something?"

"Yeah, you're right. I heard Mrs. Vitello was looking for someone to help her run shop this summer since she's going to Italy," he said, seeming to have brightened slightly.

"There you go," Arnold told him cheerily as they took their seats. "See, it'll be good. Plus, we'll be having fun, so the time will go by fast."

"Yeah, fun by _ourselves_," Gerald groaned. "Man, everyone's going somewhere! Phoebe, Curly, Nadine, Sheena, Eugene, Rhonda, Park, Peapod Kid, Iggy--even Fuzzy Slippers is going outta town!"

"Where to?" Arnold asked.

"California, or something, I don't really know," Gerald said. "But yeah, still--it's gonna be you, me, Sid, Stinky, and Harold all summer."

Arnold gazed out the window and scratched the top of his head. "Uh, Helga's not going anywhere."

"Helga?" Gerald repeated, lifting his eyebrows. "What, you didn't get enough of her all year with all that play practice?"

Arnold elbowed Gerald in the ribs slightly and shook his head, chuckling. "Stop it, Helga's a lot of fun. Sometimes. You gotta get her in the right mood."

"Man, she's never in the right mood!" Gerald argued.

"Gerald," Arnold started knowingly, "you've gotten along a lot better with her over time."

"Yeah, yeah, she's cool," Gerald admitted, looking upward. "Still, she's basically the only girl that's gonna be left to hang with this summer, and you know what that means."

Arnold looked quizzical. "What?"

"_Hello_, ever heard of summer romance?" Gerald said, elbowing him back.

Arnold shook his head and made a face. "You gotta stop watching Lifetime movies with Timberly."

"I'm telling you man, summer is the season of love," he said slyly. "If you wind up hanging out with just her too much, you're gonna end up trippin' and fallin', no joke."

Chuckling again, Arnold rolled his eyes. "You're crazy, Gerald. It's just summer and it's just Helga. What could happen?"

---

"I can't believe you're actually going."

Helga was sprawled lazily upon Phoebe's bed, watching as she picked up articles of clothing and knick-knacks and stuffed each into either one of two open suitcases.

"If _your_father was on his deathbed, wouldn't you want to see him?"

Helga stared at her friend through half-lidded eyes and twisted her mouth.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Don't answer that."

"What about _Geraldo_?"

"I've spoken to him already and he completely understands."

"Phoebe…"

She sighed. "My father really wants to say goodbye, and we're certain he only has a couple of weeks left. His family wants to be with him."

"But you barely _know_ your granddad," Helga said pointedly, tossing a pair of sandals into the bigger suitcase.

"That may be so, but my parents need support," Phoebe told her gently. "Besides, it's _Tokyo_, and we can go sight-seeing before we come home!"

Helga shook her head. "Glad you can look on the bright side."

"I think we've had good lessons on that lately," Phoebe said, winking at her. She knew perfectly well who this was in reference to.

"I'm proud of him, you know," she said off-handedly. Helga huffed.

"So he battled his feelings against Little Miss Not As Perfect As Everyone Thought and overcame them, what's there to be proud of?" Helga argued.

"It's a difficult task, getting over someone you've liked for so long," she said knowingly, peering at her over the rims of her glasses.

"Well, it's _different_, she was a--"

"She made terrible decisions, I know," Phoebe cut her off. "But honestly, I believe that Lila has the potential to get better with relationships, if she puts forth the effort to do so."

Helga scowled. "People don't change."

Phoebe sighed, exasperated, and changed the subject slightly. "Arnold is very happy with life now, at least. That's what we really wanted anyway, right?"

"Right, that's all that matters," Helga agreed, although secretly she didn't believe that they achieved _complete_ success. Disregarding this thought for the time being, she gazed sadly at her friend as she stuffed more clothes into the luggage.

"Do you really have to go?"

Phoebe grinned and closed the cover on the suitcase, then zipped it up. "It's only a few weeks, Helga. I'll be back before you know it."

Dramatically, Helga groaned and stretched her limbs. "_You're_ gonna be gone, _Rhonda's_ gonna be gone, half the boys are either gonna start working or go on some weird trip--I'm basically stuck by myself for two months!"

"Don't be silly, Helga," Phoebe told her. "Plenty of us are staying home…isn't Arnold without an agenda this summer?"

Helga coughed, choking on air, suddenly remembering him saying that he had no plans and nothing scheduled. Phoebe raised her eyebrows and winked. "See, maybe you can spend some time with him."

"Pheebs, you're crazy, maybe you _do_ need to get away for a while," Helga's voice sounded muffled from her head being under the pillow.

Phoebe giggled and zipped up her other suitcase.

---

Arnold's team won that night. He, Helga, Sid, Stinky, and Harold beat Gerald's team of Peapod Kid, Park, Curly, and Nadine with twelve points to ten, and they rejoiced by heaping onto the pitcher's mound and toasting with a round of Yahoo! soda. Rhonda, Eugene, Sheena, and a few other kids from the neighborhood watched and laughed from the sidelines, happily talking about their summer plans and their excitement for the after-party. It would be held at Rhonda's, as expected, and they all walked to her place together in the streets, jumping to either sidewalks when cars came by. Upon reaching her house, the friends filed down into the basement, where Rhonda's parents had set up tables of pizzas and appetizers and punch for the small party. As soon as the music went on, the kids began celebrating their first night of summer vacation.

"I start work tomorrow," Harold whined later in the evening, clutching a cup of punch. "I gotta get up early to help Mr. Green set up and I don't wanna!"

"Then why'd you tell him you'd work there all summer, stupid?" Sid told him, picking the pepperoni off a slice of pizza.

"Cuz I love being around meat!" Harold beamed, looking at his plate of food dreamily.

"Aren't you starting tomorrow too?" Rhonda asked Sid, slinking her arm in his.

"Stinky and I don't start until Monday," Sid told her, resting his head on her shoulder. He still wasn't as tall as she was.

"And I can't wait," Stinky said brightly after sipping his punch. "Free tokens at the arcade and discounts on concessions."

"That's wassup," Gerald said, nodding to them. He had his arm snaked around Phoebe's waist, pulling her close. She leaned on him with her eyes closed.

"When are _you_ leaving, Rhonda?" Sid asked his girlfriend, pulling away from her to grab more food from the table.

"First thing Sunday morning," she told him, her face darkening slightly.

"And you're going to Milan?" Sheena asked her, biting into a pizza slice.

"I'm going to _Paris_, Sheena," Rhonda reminded her, pouring herself some punch. "And I'm a little upset that you and Nadine decided you'd rather go on that cruise."

"Our parents don't want us traveling by ourselves!" Nadine told her, seemingly irate.

"We wouldn't be by _ourselves_, my parents are coming too!" Rhonda raised her voice at her friend. Sid sighed and excused himself to the bathroom. Stinky followed.

"They want us to be with _them_," Sheena explained calmly. "So we agreed--it's the Caribbean, Rhonda, on a huge boat with pools and fancy rooms--"

"And cute sailor guys," Nadine added, grinning. Sheena rolled her eyes and Rhonda huffed. Harold shoved an entire slice of pizza into his mouth and told the girls that he was going to play air hockey with Gerald.

On the other side of the room, Arnold sat with Curly, Helga, and Eugene, also discussing their summer plans. Curly and his father would be staying with his aunt Erin all summer, which he didn't seem too thrilled about, but Eugene seemed really excited about Myrtle Beach.

"I'll get to see all my cousins, and their house is right near the ocean, and the weather is beautiful," he gushed, pink in the face.

"That sounds really nice, Eugene," Arnold said encouragingly, smiling. "I wish I could go, even for just a day."

Helga sank into the bean bag chair and fiddled with her choker, avoiding Arnold's gaze.

"Are you going anywhere this summer, Helga?" Eugene asked her.

"No," she said, with Curly and Arnold chiming in. Helga raised an eyebrow at Arnold; she probably didn't expect him to remember that.

"It won't be so bad, though," Arnold said. "Not going on vacation. It'll be nice to just…"

"Stay home with your lame mom and dad all summer," Helga grunted, relaxing her arms.

"You don't have to be at home the _whole_ time," Curly told her knowingly.

"Yeah, Helga," Arnold said, meeting her eyes. "It won't be so bad, you can come to the boarding house and stuff."

Suppressing a smile, Helga rose from her seat and stammered, "Well--thanks for the invite, _Arnoldo_--I'll--but I can find better things to do than hang around _you_ all summer. I'm--I'm getting some punch."

"She doesn't mean that," Curly said to Arnold after she walked away.

Arnold sighed and smiled slightly. "I know."

---

It was nearing the end of the party when Rhonda had tapped Arnold on the shoulder and asked to speak with him in private. Following her to the corner where the closet was, Arnold quietly asked what it was about.

"Lila's here," Rhonda whispered. "She's outside waiting for you on the stoop; she wants to talk to you. I didn't invite her in--God forbid Helga sees her."

Arnold swallowed hard, feeling goose bumps on his arms. "Rhonda, I don't know if--"

"_Humor_ her, Arnold," Rhonda said forcefully, guiding him up the staircase. "Just talk to her. And hurry up!"

Slightly queasy, Arnold stumbled up the staircase to the foyer, facing the front door. Lila was right behind it, and he didn't want to look at her. This would be the first time they'd have met eyes since before the play. He didn't know if he could do this without throwing up. Slowly, he opened the front door.

At first, she had her back to him; all he could see of her was the long, red plait of hair down her back. He said her name quietly and she turned; her face was a light shade of burgundy. She too, looked as if she were ready to vomit.

"Arnold," she said, wringing her hands together and furrowing her brow. Her eyes were slightly red.

"Hey," he managed to utter, his mouth twisting up on his face.

"Arnold, I figured you should know something," she said, her voice cracking.

"What?" he asked anxiously, unaware of what to expect. An apology, perhaps, or a confession, maybe, of her undying love for him, but he couldn't decide which he would rather hear. Surprisingly, he didn't get either.

"I'm leaving, Arnold," she told him. It seemed that she was trying very hard not to cry.

"Everyone is," he said, half-hoping she was referring to summer vacation.

"No, Arnold," she corrected him. "I'm moving."

Arnold froze, feeling the color drain from his face. He glanced at everything in sight but her face as he muttered, "W-where are you going…?"

"I'm going to stay with my aunt, in the south," she squeaked, breathing in heavily. She exhaled slowly and the redness began to disappear from her cheeks.

"…Staying there…?" Arnold said slowly, finally looking at her.

"Yeah. I…figured it would be…ever so beneficial if I got a fresh start…after everything that happened…"

"Oh," was all Arnold could think to say. He stood there, staring at her as she looked about herself uncertainly, waiting for her to say something else, but she was silent. She straightened her back and relaxed her hands.

"Well…I'm certain that this is goodbye, Arnold."

Arnold felt a terrible lump in his throat, making him vocally inapt, but he managed to say goodbye back to her. A minute was spent just staring at each other before she just turned around and hurried off the stoop, leaving Arnold confused, empty, and hurt.

---

"I think I'm gonna go, you guys."

Rhonda rose from the couch and said, "So soon, Arnold?"

Nodding, the boy shrugged and pulled the girl in for a hug. "Yeah. Thanks Rhonda, for all this. Have fun in Paris, okay? Send a postcard or something."

"I'll pick you up a souvenir, too," she said, and then pulled away. Sid rose from his spot as Rhonda sat back down and shook his hand, promising to see him soon. Stinky and Harold did the same. The other girls all hugged him afterward in turns, all saying their summer goodbyes and promising to bring him back seashells and t-shirts and photographs. The rest of the boys all shook his hand, even gave him small hugs, and he reached Gerald and Phoebe last. Phoebe held him tightly and told him she'd bring back several photos, and he and Gerald made their handshake.

"I'll see you tomorrow, man," he said to Arnold. He smiled back and nodded.

As he made his way toward the staircase, he looked back at everyone in the room and asked, "Hey--where's Helga?"

"She said bye to everyone while you were upstairs," Sheena said. "I think she's outside now."

Sure enough, Sheena was right. Helga was perched on the stoop, hunched over and apparently clutching something in her hands, but Arnold couldn't see what.

"Helga?"

She jumped in her spot and shoved whatever it was into the front of her shirt, then whirled around to face him. "What the _hell_, Football Head, why you gotta sneak up on me like that?!"

"I'm sorry, Helga," he apologized, frowning. "Why didn't you say bye to me before you left?"

"You were out here talking to _Li_la so I figured I'd just see you tomorrow and went out the back door," she said plainly.

"If you went out the back, then…why are you in front now?" he asked curiously.

She stared at him wide-eyed, than narrowed her gaze and quickly defended herself with, "Well--maybe I decided not to take the back way home since it's _dark_ and people get _raped_ out here and--"

Arnold shook his head. "It's okay, Helga. It's whatever. Can I walk you home?"

Not like she'd tell him not to. Angrily, she spat that he could if he really, really wanted to, and they strode along the sidewalk together.

"So what the hell did _Li_la want?" Helga probed, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. "I thought you guys were _done_."

Arnold sighed slowly and stared ahead. "She came to tell me she's moving."

Helga nearly tripped off the curb as they began to cross the street. "Moving? She's _moving_? How far?"

"She said down south, so who knows," Arnold told her. Helga made a noise that sounded like a poorly suppressed giggle, then she settled.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah…" Arnold answered, feeling queasy again.

"That's _it_?"

"Yeah, Helga. That's all she said," he told her, making it obvious that he was upset.

"Well, what did you expect from her, an apology or something?" Helga questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Actually, yeah, I was hoping for at least that," Arnold admitted, thinking it was obvious.

"You thought she had the decency in her?" Helga asked unapologetically.

Honestly, yes, that's exactly what Arnold had thought. Clearly, though, he expected too much. He'd been thinking that for weeks.

"I thought I knew a lot about Lila, but I guess I didn't."

Helga looked over at him, puzzled, but he continued.

"I had it in my mind that I knew her so well--that she was still the girl I had a crush on in fourth grade. Sophisticated, intelligent, funny, sweet, and trustworthy. I never thought about her growing up from that. A lot of it remained the same, but…"

"She wasn't trustworthy anymore."

Arnold sighed. "Right. I just…I never questioned it. I thought I knew what to expect. I only knew the best in her…"

"You only _let_ yourself _see_ the best in her."

Arnold stopped, looking at Helga curiously. She stopped too, and lifted her arms in question. "What? Am I right or what? You _blinded_ yourself from reality, _Arnoldo_. You made her out to be this--perfect little princess that would never do anything to hurt you and guess what? She _did_! You can't _do_ that to yourself anymore. That's how you get screwed over."

Someone might as well have pelted Arnold in the gut, because stomach felt like it'd been pushed back into his spine. Helga looked at him, frowning, and sighed. That slow, drone, know-it-all, I-told-you-so-you-stupid-kid sigh.

"That's life, Football Head. Can't trust everyone."

Arnold peered at her as they stood under the streetlight, gazing at her softly illuminated face. Nothing had ever seemed so raw and real as he stared at her, right there in front of him, with that knowing look. He smiled.

"You're right, Helga."

"I told you so," she huffed, crossing her arms. She began to walk in front of him and he followed in silence. Not another word was exchanged between them until they reached Helga's house.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?" Arnold asked her, before she ascended the steps.

"I'll be around," Helga told him. "Probably at Rhonda's to see her before she leaves."

"Gerald and I will probably stop by then," Arnold said. "Goodnight Helga."

"Goodnight Arnoldo," she said, and took the first step up, but Arnold grabbed her arm.

"What?" she gasped, turning slightly red.

Licking his lips, Arnold actually didn't know what he was doing, but thought quickly and said, "Thanks, Helga, for--yeah, uh…"

He didn't know what made him do it, but something inside of him told him to hold her face in his hand and lightly kiss her cheek. As he did so, he thought he heard a dreamy sigh escape her mouth, but convinced himself it was his imagination. He pulled away, slightly embarrassed, and ran his hands through his hair as she told him not to mention it and to never, ever put his lips anywhere on her body ever again. He muttered a very quick goodnight and watched her storm into her house, thinking that this summer was going to be very interesting indeed.

**The End **(of Freshman Year)


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